Extremes Read online

  “He had a mild viral infection,” Klein said. “Nothing much.”

  “A viral infection?” Oliviari’s chill deepened. Domed communities tried to prevent all kinds of viral infections. They were virtually unheard of out here, thanks to vaccines and health boosters. “What did your diagnostic wand say about it?”

  “Nothing much. The problem was that he died so fast—his lungs filled, and he drowned before we could do anything about it. I’ve been talking to everyone who came into contact with him. I’m worried that this thing might spread.”

  Oliviari’s chill grew. She finally had her evidence. Frieda Tey had been here after all.

  “If it’s what I think it is,” Oliviari said. “It’ll spread. It’ll spread fast.”

  “You know what this could be?” He sounded surprised.

  “I have my suspicions,” Oliviari said. “Let’s just hope that I’m wrong.”

  SIXTEEN

  FLINT BRACED HIMSELF. The air in his office seemed cold, and he raised the temperature slightly. He was too nervous about this meeting.

  His curiosity was roused, and he knew that could be a problem. Paloma had warned him from the start not to take a case because he was curious about it. The case itself had to fit several criteria, the most important being that it had no suspicious elements—no way for Trackers or others to trace the same Disappeared that Flint was looking for.

  This case had been suspicious from the beginning.

  Still, Flint wanted to hear what Wagner had to say.

  Wagner’s airlimo had been parked across the street for more than five minutes now. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the seedy look of the building’s exterior, or maybe he hadn’t realized he would be coming to this part of Old Armstrong. The driver appeared to be arguing with him, and Wagner was shaking his head forcefully.

  Finally Wagner got out. The driver leaned out the passenger window, and shouted at him. Flint did not turn up the audio, so he couldn’t get the words, but the gist was pretty clear: the driver didn’t want Wagner to come into the building alone.

  After a moment, Wagner ran across the street as if something were chasing him. He reached Flint’s building, scanned the doors as if he couldn’t quite believe he was coming in here, and focused on the Retrieval Artist sign.

  Wagner raised his hand to knock, seemed to think the better of it, and turned the knob. He looked surprised when the door opened, and then even more surprised when he stepped inside and all of his links cut out.

  “Mr. Wagner,” Flint said dryly.

  Wagner frowned at him.

  “Your links will work outside, but in here, you’ll be as alone as a person gets. If you don’t like that, don’t hire me.” There. The challenge had been issued. Wagner would know from the beginning that Flint wasn’t as easy to manipulate as the average first-time Retrieval Artist.

  Flint’s security system traced two more sophisticated links, and shut them down. He tapped a key on the board, making certain the security system looked for every possible worm and mole, then templed his fingers and smiled at Wagner.

  “Change your mind about hiring me now?”

  “How did you do that?” Wagner’s hand was still on the door, holding it open. “How did you shut me down like that? No one’s ever done that before.”

  At least not noticeably. Flint always made certain that when his security system severed someone’s links, they noticed. That way, they knew exactly what they were getting into.

  “Stay or leave,” Flint said. “I don’t care which you choose so long as you close the door.”

  “Reinstate my links, and I’ll come inside,” Wagner said.

  Flint shook his head. “You’re on my turf now. You follow my rules or you get out.”

  Wagner studied him for a moment, then pushed the door open even wider. “I need to be in touch with my people.”

  “Then you have your answer,” Flint said. “Find a new Retrieval Artist.”

  Wagner came inside, still looking disconcerted at the silence Flint had engineered in his head. “Look, I don’t want anyone else—”

  “Fine.” Flint tapped another key on the board and the door slammed shut.

  Wagner jumped in surprise. His eyes widened. “But,” he managed to say in the same tone of voice, “I can’t work with you in this manner. I must stay in touch.”

  “I trade in information, Mr. Wagner,” Flint said. “I can’t allow information to flow freely into and out of this place. If I do, it puts a lot of people in jeopardy. Many of those people paid a lot of money to escape the kind of troubles you and your links would bring to them.”

  “I can assure you that nothing confidential would slip through my links.”

  “You’re right,” Flint said, “because I won’t let your links be on anywhere near me. This is non-negotiable. Most of my terms are.”

  Wagner sighed. Flint had a hunch this stalemate would continue as long as Wagner focused on the links. So Flint moved the meeting forward.

  “Let me tell you the rest of my terms so that you understand them. Then you can decide what you want to do.”

  Wagner watched him warily. Clearly this had all surprised him, which was well and good for Flint. It kept Flint in control of the meeting, which was where he wanted to be.

  He then launched into the prepared speech he gave all of his clients. So far, all of the terms—indeed, all of the words—were Paloma’s, but after this week, Flint would even reevaluate that.

  “I charge a minimum of two million credits, Moon issue, not Earth issue,” Flint said, “and I can charge as much as ten million or more. There is no upper limit on my costs, nor is there one on my charges. I charge by the day, with expenses added in.”

  This was one of Paloma’s rules that she hadn’t had to convince Flint on, not because he needed the money but because he understood the principle. Make the service so expensive that no one could pay the asking price casually, and yet again, an entire group of potential clients went away.

  He went on. “Some investigations take a week. Some take five years. I cannot predict up front how long an investigation will take.”

  Wagner was staring at him, as if he were trying to memorize everything. The man seemed almost naked without his links. Flint wondered how long Wagner had used them to supplement his own memory.

  “I have a contract,” Flint said. “It holds up beautifully in court. You cannot nullify it.”

  Of course, he had never tested the contract, but Paloma had, many times. The contract was beautiful. No client could argue that he wasn’t going to pay because the Retrieval Artist refused to turn the Disappeared in. It didn’t state that the agreement was between a Retrieval Artist and a potential client, since some courts would want to know what the Retrieval Artist would do once he found the Disappeared. The rest of the contract was straightforward. In the end, the courts always had forced the clients to pay, no matter how the cases had turned out.

  “I do not take charity cases,” Flint said, “and I do not allow anyone to defer payment. The minute the money stops, so do I. If you don’t like these terms, leave now. I won’t change them for anyone. I do not negotiate.”

  “You can terminate but I can’t?” Wagner asked, the lawyer in him obviously intrigued in spite of himself.

  “That’s right,” Flint said.

  “All the control in this relationship is with you, then.”

  Flint nodded. “Once you’ve hired me, you’ve put the situation—whatever it is—into my hands. I make all the relevant choices. That’s part of what you hire me for.”

  “Because I’m not smart enough to deal with the ethics of Disappeareds?” Wagner asked, an edge in his voice.

  “You’re the one seeking me out, Mr. Wagner,” Flint said. “I didn’t come to you. I’m not giving you any rules I don’t give other clients. However, I am telling you the rules sooner because you seem so alarmed at my severing of your security links—something, I’m sure, your office does routinely without informing its cl
ients.”

  Wagner started, then covered the movement with a shake of the head. “We wouldn’t do that. We don’t violate privacy like that.”

  “Stop,” Flint said. “We both know that private companies can determine what nets operate within their offices. So long as people have immediate access to emergency services, severing links in these circumstances does not violate the law.”

  Wagner’s shoulders slumped, as if they and they alone were conceding defeat. “People said that if Paloma trained you, you’d be the best. Obviously, they were right.”

  “My knowledge of the law has nothing to do with my abilities as a Retrieval Artist,” Flint said. “Don’t try to flatter or manipulate me, Mr. Wagner. I already trust you less than I trust the average person who walks through that door.”

  “And you don’t trust them at all.”

  Flint smiled. “That’s right.”

  Wagner nodded. He seemed to have forgotten his desire to leave. “Okay. If I accept your terms, then what?”

  “Then you can tell me about the case.”

  Wagner nodded. “All right. It seemed straightforward enough—”

  “Mr. Wagner,” Flint said. “You haven’t told me what you think about the terms yet.”

  Wagner’s cheeks flushed slightly. It was clear he had tried to avoid committing to them.

  Lawyers. Flint didn’t have to be warned about them. He’d dealt with them enough as a detective. Lawyers hated to commit to anything.

  “All right,” Wagner said, his voice reluctant. “I accept your terms. What do I have to do? Sign something?”

  “A verbal agreement works in this case,” Flint said, “as I’m sure you already know.”

  “So long as there’s a record of it.” Wagner held out his hands. Their backs were dotted with flesh-colored links. “I haven’t made one.”

  Flint smiled. “I’ve made two.”

  Actually he’d made four, using different systems to keep track, but Wagner didn’t need to know that.

  “I’ll make certain you have a copy,” Flint said.

  Wagner crossed his arms. “Is there any place to sit?”

  “No,” Flint said. “Sorry.”

  He liked this old ploy of Paloma’s, and planned to keep it. The lack of a chair made powerful people even more uncomfortable than they already were when they asked Flint for help. It also took away any feeling of superiority they had in towering over him.

  “Okay,” Wagner said. “If I don’t have to sign anything, we can move forward, right?”

  “Right,” Flint said. “Then I’ll take a few days to see if I’m interested, and I’ll get back to you. You’ll pay me a nonrefundable retainer up front for those days. Chances are, I will not take your case.”

  “How do you know that?” Wagner asked.

  “Because people lie,” Flint said. “They usually can’t help themselves. But if one of the lies is detrimental to me or the Disappeared, then I’m going to refuse your case.”

  “You’ve already checked up on me,” Wagner said. “You know I’m not going to lie to you.”

  “Everyone lies to me, Mr. Wagner,” Flint said, not denying that he had checked up. “You will be no different. You have secrets you don’t want me to know. Those will be lies of omission. You have things you consider unimportant, but embarrassing. Those will be little white lies, harmless ones, you’ll think, and with luck, you’ll be right. And then, there are the big lies, ones you promised someone else you’d never reveal or things you lie about automatically, or lies you tell me deliberately to manipulate me.”

  “We’re going to have full trust in this relationship,” Wagner said.

  Flint smiled. “You and I? Full trust? I don’t think so. Especially with all your attempts at manipulation in the beginning. You don’t really trust me, Mr. Wagner, and I don’t trust you. We share that. But we have a difference that’s pretty fundamental.”

  Wagner shifted from foot to foot, looking very uncomfortable. “What’s that?”

  “You’ve sought me out three times,” Flint said. “It seems that you need me for one reason or another. I don’t need you. If you walk out that door right now, my life will be no worse. It might actually be better, given your firm’s recent history.”

  “I’m not here for the firm,” Wagner said. “I’m here for myself.”

  “Really?” Flint asked. “Then why did you want to meet in your office? Why did you send your assistant?”

  “Astrid’s a good judge of character. I wanted her opinion. And as for my office, it gives me a measure of control.” Wagner looked around Flint’s as if it were the most ornate office on the Moon. “I’m sure you understand that.”

  “I do,” Flint said. “So what you want to discuss with me has nothing to do with the firm?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Wagner said.

  “But the firm won’t mind if you take its business outside its walls.”

  Wagner frowned. “What’re you getting at?”

  “Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor have three Retrieval Artists on staff, and a relationship with at least two others in Armstrong, not to mention Retrieval Artists scattered throughout the known worlds. You certainly don’t need me.”

  Wagner crossed his arms. “You’ve done your homework.”

  Not enough of it, Flint wanted to say, but didn’t. Let Wagner think Flint knew more than he did.

  “It’s probably better that we’re meeting here,” Wagner said. “I’m so used to using my office systems, and they’re protected, but probably not protected enough. I could get disbarred for what I’m about to do.”

  Flint felt a shiver run down his back. That was quite an admission for a lawyer to make.

  “Sometimes, though, you have to follow your gut. That’s one of the reasons I came to you. You’re a friend of Paloma’s and she always followed her gut.”

  “I’m not Paloma,” Flint said.

  “No, but you’re her handpicked successor.” Wagner walked toward the wall and leaned on it. It creaked under his weight. He looked at the wall as if it had betrayed him, and stood upright.

  Flint didn’t mention that the wall was reinforced, more than strong enough to hold a dozen Wagners. One of the nice things about this building was that it looked seedier than it was.

  “Paloma once told my father that she wouldn’t sell her business to anyone. When he found out that she had, she laughed at him, and said that you were the most trustworthy person she had ever met.”

  Flint started. She had never said that to him. He had trouble believing that she had talked about him with anyone.

  “Paloma doesn’t use the word ‘trustworthy,’” Wagner was saying. “I had always thought she was too cynical to believe there were trustworthy people left in the world.”

  Wagner’s familiarity with Paloma disturbed Flint. He had gotten no sense from her that she had known these people well, yet she had worked for the firm for a long time, and obviously had maintained a relationship with the elder Wagner.

  Then there were the files that Flint had found this afternoon. Such detail implied some kind of relationship, but not necessarily a healthy one.

  “Let’s forget Paloma,” Flint said. “Tell me about your case.”

  Wagner sighed and gave the wall one last look. Flint almost felt sorry for him. He was beginning to realize the man hardly exercised, let alone spent this much time on his feet.

  “You didn’t mention it,” Wagner said, “but I’m assuming you know that we had four Retrieval Artists on staff until a week ago.”

  Flint hadn’t known that, but he nodded just the same. He wished he had had time to gather more information.

  “Dambe—Dambe Rabinowitz—started at the same time we contracted with Paloma, only he stayed with us.” Wagner looked down at his hands, at the useless links. “I knew him all my life.”

  That last sentence had a mournful quality. Flint leaned back in his chair, watching Wagner closely.

  “He died last week. No one
seems to have thought much of it. I mean, he was a Retrieval Artist, so he didn’t have family or close friends. Just his colleagues.”

  Flint winced. Fortunately, Wagner wasn’t looking at him, so he missed Flint’s expression.

  “They seemed relieved that he’s gone. He was old-school.” Wagner’s voice held contempt, but Flint couldn’t tell if it was for the other Retrieval Artists or for Rabinowitz. “But if you look at what he was working on and then you look at how he died, things don’t entirely add up.”

  “Are you saying he was murdered?” Flint asked.

  Wagner nodded once, then looked up. “At least I think so.”

  “I don’t investigate crimes any more, Mr. Wagner. Perhaps you should take this to the police.”

  “Give me a minute,” Wagner said. “Listen to the whole thing. Give me that courtesy at least.”

  Finally the big-time lawyer showed through. Flint had pushed him around as much as he possibly could.

  “What I’m going to tell you is privileged information, Mr. Flint. I expect you to keep it confidential.” Wagner stared at him.

  “I don’t make those kinds of promises,” Flint said.

  Wagner continued to stare at him. Flint recognized the power of the look—he was certain it got clients to change their minds all the time, maybe juries as well—but it didn’t influence him.

  Finally Wagner sighed. “You’re going to let me hang.”

  “I’m going to let you chose,” Flint said. “There’s no obligation on either side at this point. You can walk out right now and keep all your secrets.”

  Wagner broke eye contact, looked at the wall as if its blankness gave him guidance, and then shook his head once. “You ever hear of Frieda Tey?”

  The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Flint couldn’t place it. “No.”

  “I thought everybody had.” Wagner sighed. “About ten years ago, she supposedly killed about two hundred people in a lab experiment. Some kind of government thing. It was big news here because her experiments involved domed colonies.”

  Ten years ago, Flint had been mourning his only child. He hadn’t paid attention to anything else. “I don’t recall anything about the case.”