this, but straightforward was the easiest. She would have had him checked out, as much as possible, and there was nothing to be gained from being devious.
Well. Not yet.
“As you are no doubt aware, Director, the Rajah’s daughter Indira has been kidnapped.”
“I have heard, yes.”
“I am with CFI, and the Rajah has employed us to aid in his daughter’s return.”
“Of course.”
First the carrot: “The Rajah has placed his full confidence in CFI and would be most appreciative of those who help us achieve the safety and freedom of his daughter.”
“Naturally, we wish to be of any help in this matter that we can,” she said.
“To that end, I need some information.”
She waited, that hard smile set in place.
“Who benefits the most financially as a result of this kidnapping?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He leaned back as if the couch were the most comfortable seat he’d ever ridden. “Come, come, fem, it’s not that difficult a query. I’m not talking about some criminal collecting a ransom. Who benefits if the Rajah is distracted thus?”
She frowned, and the smile disappeared. He could almost hear her mind working.
“I’m not sure I would be comfortable discussing this.”
So much for the carrot.
So, the stick:
“It is my understanding that the Rajah can raise the export tax on your products 100 percent with a wave of one hand, is this not so?”
“He could. But he wouldn’t do that.”
“Want to bet? Want to be the person who caused it to happen? Because I can guarantee you that everybody and her old fembot Milly will know who was responsible for that because they stood in the way of Indira’s safe return.”
That got him a small smile—a real one, he thought—mostly in the eyes. “My. A soldier who knows how to play smashball. How interesting. What exactly do you need, Captain Demonde?”
“Call me ‘Gramps,’ all my friends do.”
“And you think we are going to be friends?”
“Why not? Smart, successful, handsome fem such as yourself? A relationship could be mutually beneficial. Never can tell when you might need a soldier who knows how to play smashball. One hand washes the other.”
She laughed. “Nicely done. I’ll get you a list of players and companies who might find a way to take advantage of the Rajah’s agitation.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“A word of advice. We here in the city are civilized—or what passes for it on this world. Out in the countryside, the growers and overseers and workers are, ah, somewhat more…primitive and direct. Step off the path in the wrongplace, and you’ll get your ass handed to you, and nobody will ever find it, nor you.”
“Good to know, Fem Director.”
“You must call me ‘Lareece.’” She paused for a moment. “Gramps.”
They both smiled.
It was always a pleasure to do business with a real professional in the field.
“You can
do
that? Really?”
Formentara gave the man a small shrug. “It’s not that hard.”
The building was cheap castplast and the fittings and furniture new, but tacky. Bottom-of-the-line hardware, and the couches were plush but really ugly. The place smelled of vapor-nebulized hemp.
I worked in this dump, I’d stay stoned, too.
The man shook his head. “Not that hard? There isn’t anybody on this entire
planet
who can tune that aug that fine.”
The comment was what it was, but it also offered hir a challenge:
I don’t believe you.
Formentara said, “If I may use your board?”
“By all means.”
The local had been doing a preop tune, no patient attached, only the aug itself, adjusting the factory presets to the specific patient’s scan record. You could do it once the ’plant was over because you still had to do touch-ups anyhow, but it was easier to do the nuts-and-bolts stuff at this stage.
Zhe sat, donned her own temple frame, and ran hir fingers over the board’s sensor. Zhe queried, then logged onto the system, found the patient’s sig, and his
Well. Not yet.
“As you are no doubt aware, Director, the Rajah’s daughter Indira has been kidnapped.”
“I have heard, yes.”
“I am with CFI, and the Rajah has employed us to aid in his daughter’s return.”
“Of course.”
First the carrot: “The Rajah has placed his full confidence in CFI and would be most appreciative of those who help us achieve the safety and freedom of his daughter.”
“Naturally, we wish to be of any help in this matter that we can,” she said.
“To that end, I need some information.”
She waited, that hard smile set in place.
“Who benefits the most financially as a result of this kidnapping?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He leaned back as if the couch were the most comfortable seat he’d ever ridden. “Come, come, fem, it’s not that difficult a query. I’m not talking about some criminal collecting a ransom. Who benefits if the Rajah is distracted thus?”
She frowned, and the smile disappeared. He could almost hear her mind working.
“I’m not sure I would be comfortable discussing this.”
So much for the carrot.
So, the stick:
“It is my understanding that the Rajah can raise the export tax on your products 100 percent with a wave of one hand, is this not so?”
“He could. But he wouldn’t do that.”
“Want to bet? Want to be the person who caused it to happen? Because I can guarantee you that everybody and her old fembot Milly will know who was responsible for that because they stood in the way of Indira’s safe return.”
That got him a small smile—a real one, he thought—mostly in the eyes. “My. A soldier who knows how to play smashball. How interesting. What exactly do you need, Captain Demonde?”
“Call me ‘Gramps,’ all my friends do.”
“And you think we are going to be friends?”
“Why not? Smart, successful, handsome fem such as yourself? A relationship could be mutually beneficial. Never can tell when you might need a soldier who knows how to play smashball. One hand washes the other.”
She laughed. “Nicely done. I’ll get you a list of players and companies who might find a way to take advantage of the Rajah’s agitation.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“A word of advice. We here in the city are civilized—or what passes for it on this world. Out in the countryside, the growers and overseers and workers are, ah, somewhat more…primitive and direct. Step off the path in the wrongplace, and you’ll get your ass handed to you, and nobody will ever find it, nor you.”
“Good to know, Fem Director.”
“You must call me ‘Lareece.’” She paused for a moment. “Gramps.”
They both smiled.
It was always a pleasure to do business with a real professional in the field.
“You can
do
that? Really?”
Formentara gave the man a small shrug. “It’s not that hard.”
The building was cheap castplast and the fittings and furniture new, but tacky. Bottom-of-the-line hardware, and the couches were plush but really ugly. The place smelled of vapor-nebulized hemp.
I worked in this dump, I’d stay stoned, too.
The man shook his head. “Not that hard? There isn’t anybody on this entire
planet
who can tune that aug that fine.”
The comment was what it was, but it also offered hir a challenge:
I don’t believe you.
Formentara said, “If I may use your board?”
“By all means.”
The local had been doing a preop tune, no patient attached, only the aug itself, adjusting the factory presets to the specific patient’s scan record. You could do it once the ’plant was over because you still had to do touch-ups anyhow, but it was easier to do the nuts-and-bolts stuff at this stage.
Zhe sat, donned her own temple frame, and ran hir fingers over the board’s sensor. Zhe queried, then logged onto the system, found the patient’s sig, and his
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