InterstellarNet- Enigma by Edward M. Lerner

Author:Edward M. Lerner
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: alien invasion, space opera, science fiction, libertarian, first contact, SF
Publisher: FoxAcre Press
Published: 2015-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 37

Agnelli’s meeting was running late.

“The director will be with you in a minute,” the perky blond executive assistant told Carl. That would have been a welcome reassurance if he hadn’t already heard it five times. And if intel crises were not unscheduled and unscheduleable.

In theory, he could be using the time to organize his thoughts. To an extent, he did. More, he struggled to stay upright in the anteroom chair. Damned Earth gravity.

He would scold himself another time about allowing his exercise regimen to slide.

When, at last, Carl got to enter the inner sanctum, whoever had last seen Agnelli had exited by a rear door. Digital wallpaper showed only Alpine scenery. Agnelli looked harried.

The director was not one for chit-chat. Within a few sentences, including the pro forma question whether Carl would like something to drink and a more sincere offer (that Carl likewise declined) of a mobile hydraulic-assist chair, Agnelli got down to business. Over a cosmic ultra link he netted, “You didn’t come all this way just to chew the fat. Did you discover something about Helena Strauss?”

“We continue to turn over rocks.”

Because whether from Agency training or Xool, Helena had been a pro at covering her tracks. Her many cover IDs—although neither Carl nor anyone he had assigned to the case believed all had been found—made Helena’s disappearance appear planned.

The cover IDs he had built for her appeared to trace back to the same computer break-in that had trashed the backup memories of AIs and Augmented, including Robyn Tanaka Astor’s. Until this oppressive gravity began compressing his spine, he had appreciated the poetic justice: Intervener sabotage used to mask his penetration of the Intervener conspiracy.

Carl continued, “I came to update you on the situation on Ariel.”

“Snakes being Snakes?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Carl netted back. “The deeper I dig into comm logs, even back to my departure, the surer I am. Bruce Wycliffe”—Carl’s erstwhile deputy—“isn’t being himself. Glithwah must be up to something.”

“Despite pols going on about bygones and new generations, it’s the rare person in this building who trusts the Snakes.” The secure connection broke. Aloud, Agnelli continued, “But there hasn’t been a duress code in any of the reports. Correct?”

“Correct,” Carl said. “And the regular authentication codes are present. I still stand by my conclusion.”

Agnelli would connect the dots: the Agency’s remaining asset on Ariel had been compromised or coerced.

“And the experts agree?” asked the director.

“I’m the expert for Ariel. I’m the expert on Snakes and Bruce Wycliffe. Forget that analysts say the variances from earlier messages are statistically inconclusive. Don’t ask me to put my finger on specific words or phrases”—because specifics would risk giving those analysts proof he was fudging—“but reading between the lines ….”

“Understood. You’ve sent your own challenge messages to Ariel?”

“Of course. And received the proper canned response to each one.”

“As you would whether or not your man Bruce were compromised.” Agnelli frowned. “What’s your recommendation? Send in the Navy? Because they’re busy hunting and not finding pirates.”

“Not yet. I could be mistaken.

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