Sagittarius Whorl Read online

  Eve and Simon stood near a refreshment bar at the far side of the room, talking quietly together, their backs to the rest of us. Caleb Millstone, the prissy CFO, Crista Wenzel, the Chief Technical Officer, and Thora Scranton, who had represented Rampart's small stakeholders for over two decades, sat at the boardroom table just below John Ellington, staring at me. Three chairs on Gunter's left were empty. The fourth was occupied by Sam Yamamoto, my friend and colleague in Rampart's legal department, who had been my principal associate during the Galapharma trial. I was glad Sam had been promoted into the Chief Legal Officer slot, wondered what he was studying so intently on the recessed computer display in front of him.

  Gunter Eckert said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to call this meeting to order."

  Eve and Simon came to the table and sat down in the chairs at Gunter's left, leaving an empty seat between them—presumably in case President Asahel Frost showed up after all. My sister did not condescend to notice those of us at the foot of the table. She had always been a clotheshorse, but today she was so perfectly groomed— striking in an ivory sheath and large sapphire earrings, every hair in her coiffure lacquered firmly in place—that she might have been an android mannequin. A rather short one, with an attitude.

  Simon was a shocking contrast. Seven months had worked a terrible change on my father. He had become skeletally thin, his signature denim ranchman's outfit appeared many sizes too large for him, and his tooled leather belt had been ratcheted to the last hole. Sunken rheumy eyes darted restlessly from one person to another until they found my incongruous figure and turned slitty with apprehension.

  I thought: What in God's name have they done to you, Pop?

  But I knew the answer. No doubt Simon had refused to retire, and couldn't be forced off the Board of Directors, so Drummond and his crew had dealt with him as they had Karl Nazarian. Unless I intervened, the malignant virus was going to live in my father until he died.

  Gunter Eckert called the group to order, dispensed with the reading of the minutes, and invited John Ellington to present the first order of business.

  "Before I do that, let me introduce our guests," Ellington said. "You all know Adam Stanislawski, Chairman and CEO of Macrodur Concern. He requested this extraordinary meeting today. On Adam's left are Joanna DeVet, a distinguished author and professor of political science at Commonwealth University, and Chief Superintendent Beatrice Mangan of the Interstellar Commerce Secretariat's Forensic Division. The man seated at Adam's right has not been presented to me. Perhaps Chairman Stanislawski will do the honors."

  Adam said, "The Chief Superintendent, Professor DeVet, and I are agreed on his identity. Those gadgets over there on the cart will verify it as well." He took me by the arm and rose to his feet, drawing me with him. "This man is the real Asahel Frost."

  Murmurs of astonishment and indignant disbelief.

  "No," Eve said. Her face had turned the color of ash.

  Adam plowed on. "The person who has used Kelly's name for the past six months is an impostor. A genetically engineered demiclone of the type described by Delegate Efrem Sontag in his committee hearings. This afternoon Delegate Sontag will present evidence of Kelly's identity to the news media and to the Commonwealth Assembly."

  "No!" Eve said again in a more emphatic tone. "That's impossible!"

  Several of the others loudly voiced their agreement with her opinion. But Sam Yamamoto was smiling at me, and one of his eyes slowly closed in an unmistakable wink.

  Gunter Eckert bellowed, "Adam, have you lost your bloody mind?"

  Stanislawski turned to Joanna and Bea with an ironic smile. "Ladies? Have I?"

  Bea said, "I tested this individual's DNA. He has been subjected to a genen procedure and his appearance has been altered. But he's Asahel Frost, beyond a doubt."

  Joanna rose from her chair and stood beside me, one hand resting on my shoulder. "I know him better than any person here. Better than Eve, better than Simon. This man is my husband."

  I felt my chest constrict in sudden breathless joy, wanted to leap and shout and stomp and tell the Rampart board that I didn't give a hoot in hell what they thought—what the whole goddamned galaxy thought!—so long as she accepted me.

  All the same, I didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle.

  Eve regarded the lot of us with cool contempt. "I don't know what you're playing at, Adam, how you've managed to dupe these two women and Delegate Sontag, or brainwash them—"

  "Let him prove himself," Thora Scranton demanded. "Use the truth machine."

  "Machines can be rigged," said Gunter Eckert.

  Bea Mangan said, "Then bring in your own psychotronic device and your own interrogator. Call the ICS and request another DNA examiner with another assay machine. This man will pass any identity test you can give him. He is the real Asahel Frost."

  "No," Eve insisted. Her eyes were burning in her pale face and both hands were clenched into fists. "No impostor could have done the things my brother Asa did. He accomplished far more than the Rampart-Galapharma consolidation. He made himself my good right arm! He's kind and affirming and strong. He's never tried to undermine my authority. Thanks to him, Rampart has become a respected member of the Big Seven."

  "Thanks to him," I said, finally speaking up in my altered voice, "trade with the Haluk is the bulwark of Rampart's prosperity. But it won't last, Evie. The aliens will take it all away. The impostor has inserted Haluk demiclones into Rampart corporate management."

  "The Faceless One speaks!" drawled Crista Wenzel.

  "And you'd better listen," Adam Stanislawski said.

  Eve cried out, "This is ridiculous! Everyone in the Concern has been DNA-tested regularly since the Sontag committee started its flap in August. Including me. Including Asa."

  "Who did the testing?" I demanded. "Rampart Internal Security?"

  "Of course."

  "Evie—"

  "Don't call me that!" she shouted.

  I said, "Madam Chief Executive Officer, if the Rampart president is a demiclone, don't you think InSec would be the first part of the Concern he'd subvert? ... Have you forgotten our turncoat pal Ollie Schneider so soon? I know how devastating this revelation is. How shocking. Joanna showed me holovids of the impersonator inaction. He's utterly convincing. A corporate team player—exactly the kind of man you and Simon hoped and prayed I'd turn into after the big trial, ready to fulfill the family 'hopes that I'd dashed over and over again in the past. But you know in your heart that the real Asahel Frost could never have become that man."

  "I know nothing of the sort!" she said, but the conviction that had been so rock-solid before might have been faltering.

  With the exception of Sam Yamamoto, who was whispering into the stylomike of his computer, the other directors were listening to Eve's and my exchange with expressions that ranged from blank puzzlement to sick uncertainty.

  I asked her, "Would you be willing to have independent experts assay the DNA of every top Rampart executive? Including that of your so-called brother Asa?"

  She lifted her chin and smiled coldly at me. "Of course. I'll authorize it personally—after the Haluk colony bill passes."

  "The hell you will!" Adam Stanislawski exclaimed furiously.

  "Don't try to bully me, Chairman," Eve snapped. "Rampart is my corporation, not yours, and I won't see its best interests compromised. If my decision doesn't please you, put your stake on the block and we'll buy you out."

  Sadly, I said, "Oh, Evie. Are you willing to set aside all your past suspicions about the Haluk, all their treachery and the personal suffering you endured at their hands? Never mind that the Commonwealth of Human Worlds might also be in deadly danger—"

  "There is no plausible evidence of a Haluk threat to humanity," she stated. Her voice was flat, almost without inflection. "The true Asahel Frost has proved that to our satisfaction."

  "Under psychotronic interrogation?"

  "Don't be idiotic."

  Simon suddenly said, "Who is h
e?"

  Everyone looked at my father, who pointed a trembling finger at me and spoke in an agonized rasp. "If you're Asa, then who's this crafty sidewinder who's taken us all in, played us for fools?"

  "He's Alistair Drummond," I said.

  Eve cried, "That's a lie!" The other directors seemed petrified.

  Simon's gaunt face twisted with some devastating emotion. "Turn off your privacy visor, you! Right this fuckin' minute! I'll know if you're really my son!"

  "Maybe not, Pop," I said. "The Haluk have worked me over in a dystasis tank." And to my sister: "Same as they did to you, Eve, once upon a time on the planet Cravat."

  "Quit shilly-shallying, dammit!" Simon said. "Show us your face!"

  "All right." I pulled off my constricting mittens and flicked the switch of the visor.

  Pandemonium.

  As the room erupted, I removed the anorak and handed it to Joanna, who still stood beside me, and whispered a few words to her.

  She said, "Are you sure?"

  "Watch him. Go over to the refreshment bar. I don't think there's any immediate danger, but don't take your eyes off him for a minute. I won't be in a position to do anything during the tests. I'll have to depend on you. Can you manage?"

  She folded the Anonyme and held it tightly against her. "Yes."

  Adam Stanislawski endured the uproar for only a few minutes before shouting, "That's enough!"

  In the ensuing silence, Gunter Eckert said, "Chief Superintendent Mangan. Please use your machine to test this— this man's DNA."

  Bea said, "Very well." She moved the equipment cart next to my chair and set to work.

  Joanna was helping herself to coffee. Simon sat slumped in his chair, eyes closed, lips mumbling silently. Eve's expression was stubborn and aloof. Adam Stanislawski wandered up to the head of the table and spoke in an undertone to Gunter Eckert and John Ellington. Millstone, Scranton, and Sam Yamamoto waited with expectant faces. Crista Wenzel, the Chief Technical Officer, left her seat and took up a position where she could observe the DNA analyzer's display.

  After a few minutes the machine confirmed my identity.

  Wenzel said to me, "Now I'd like to use the psychotronic device to interrogate you briefly, if you please." She smiled minimally. "Or if you don't please."

  I submitted to the hookup. When the truth machine activated, I felt an unpleasant sensation, as though an entire hive of nanobot bees had invaded my cranium. Wenzel asked only one question.

  "Are you Asahel Frost?"

  I said, "Yes, I am."

  Zap. Momentary blankout. Pain.

  Wenzel watched as Bea touched several control pads. The CTO studied the display, nodded, and addressed the board. "This machine also confirms his identity. In my opinion we have no choice but to tentatively accept these test results, pending confirmation by an independent examining team. I so move, and call for a second."

  "I second the motion of the CTO," said John Ellington.

  Gunter Eckert said, "Those in favor, please raise your hands."

  Ellington, Crista Wenzel, Thora Scranton.

  "Those opposed."

  Eve, Caleb Millstone, and—shit!—Sam Yamamoto.

  I looked at him. He shrugged.

  Gunter said, "Simon? Are you abstaining?"

  The old man had tears streaming down his face. He said to me, "It'll destroy Rampart, you know. After everything we went through. The other Concerns will wipe us off the map for screwing up the Haluk trade."

  "We're going to face some tough times, Pop," I said. "All of us, not only Rampart. The greed and stupidity of the Hundred Concerns have put humanity at terrible risk. I'm going to the media this afternoon to talk about it, and then I'll repeat my allegations before the Assembly. Whatever this Board of Directors decides, I don't intend to let Alistair Drummond and the Haluk win."

  Simon's green eyes blazed at me with some of their old fire. "You gonna stick with us, then, afterward?"

  I hesitated, knowing what he was asking. Sighed. "Yes, you blackmailing old coot. If I survive this rucking mess."

  "I vote aye," Simon said.

  Eve shook her head. "Oh, Pop. What have you done?"

  "What I had to do," he said to her coolly. "What's more, you know it, missy! Rampart's not your child any more'n it's mine. And don't you forget it."

  The virus hadn't sapped my father's old feistiness, or his common sense, either.

  Gunter Eckert touched the computer display on the table in front of him. "In the absence of our Corporate Secretary, I herewith record that the motion has carried." His eyes swept the group. "We now face a peculiar situation. Our election of the erstwhile Asahel Frost to the positions of president and syndic is nullified—"

  "No, it's not," I said. "You elected Asahel Frost. I'm Asahel Frost. I hold the offices and I still have a seat on this board, by virtue of my quarterstake." Thus giving notice that any attempt to vote me out would fail for lack of the required stakeholder votes, I spoke to Yamamoto. "Do you agree with my position, Mr. Chief Legal Officer?"

  "In my opinion, you're correct." Sam spoke blandly. "Although I doubt there's any precedent to support you."

  "You can't do this!" Eve exclaimed. "You have no right!"

  I ignored her, wondering how Alistair Drummond had managed to turn this intelligent, decisive woman into a deluded fool. Perhaps Simon was right about her thinking of the Concern as a person with a life of its own. Legally, of course, it was—but not morally/Trust a lawyer to make the distinction.

  "As Rampart president," I said, "I exercise my right to relinquish the office of syndic, and appoint John Ellington to fill the vacancy. Do you accept, John?"

  Almost inaudibly: "Yes."

  "I instruct you to immediately contact those Delegates of the Commonwealth Assembly who represent our planets. You will urge them to vote against the upcoming measure granting the Haluk three hundred new Perseus colonies. If your persuasions fail, you may expect the gravest possible consequences."

  "I understand." He threw a bitter glance at Adam Stanislawski. "I have every confidence that the Delegates will respond appropriately."

  A silence.

  "Is there any other new business?" Gunter Eckert asked formally.

  Simon let out a cackle of laughter that hovered on the edge of hysteria. "The hell with business. Let's all get on over to the Assembly chamber and watch the friggin' fireworks!"

  "It's my intention," I declared, "to request that ICS, CCID, and ECID teams immediately begin genetic profile comparison tests of every person in top-echelon management and every member of the Rampart security force. Eventually, each Rampart employee will be tested. In Toronto this action will be supervised by Chairman Gunter Eckert, as soon as his identity is verified by Chief Superintendent Mangan, and by Karl Nazarian, who has already been tested by her. Karl will resume his former position as Vice President for Special Projects at once, appointed by me. In our Seriphos outplanet headquarters, I will request that CCID personnel immediately test Zared Frost, Rampart Chief Perseus Operations Officer, and Matilde Gregoire, Vice President for Perseus Security. They will then supervise testing of Rampart executives in that region. In our Hygeia headquarters similar testing will be under the supervision of Orion COO Edison Vivieros and Orion Security VP Reinhard Fournier. Does any member of the board wish to move an objection?"

  No one spoke. Eve was staring at her clasped hands.

  I said, "Then I move this board meeting be adjourned."

  "Second," said Thora Scranton. "Helly, are you giving out freebie tix to your media circus over at the Assembly?"

  Good old Thora; we'd always been buddies. I showed my inhuman grin. "Anyone interested can join the party... after Bea Mangan tests their DNA."

  "Except John," said Adam Stanislawski, "who has other business to take care of."

  Ellington had already risen from his seat and started for the door. He said sourly, "Stop twisting it, Adam. I told you I'd convince the Delegates."

  "I think not," sa
id Sam Yamamoto. He stood up suddenly at his place, a Kagi pistol in his hand. "Come back to the table, John. The rest of you, sit still."

  Thunderstruck, Eve whispered, "Sam?"

  Adam Stanislawski said, "Oh, shit."

  "Is Alistair Drummond on his way, Sam?" I inquired archly. "Or did you just send out a general mole-call on your computer?"

  "Guess."

  "He's a demiclone," I said.

  "Shut up!" Fake Sam shouted. He fired at me twice. The blue beams hit me square in the chest. The people at the table cried out in horror as I fell from my chair and landed in a heap on the floor, praying Sam wouldn't try a head shot. A sharp smell of ozone and burnt fabric filled the air.

  I heard starchy Caleb Millstone call Sam an unexpectedly filthy name. Lying on my right side, I had a perfect view of the demiclone as he pulled Simon to his feet, pressing the muzzle of the photon gun into the old man's temple. "Everyone sit down and keep quiet! My people will be here in a few minutes and we'll sort everything out."

  Eve said, "Oh, Asa ..."

  I couldn't see her face, but the changed timbre of her voice told me that she had finally accepted the truth. I hoped that it wasn't too late to matter.

  John Ellington addressed the impostor. "Do you seriously think Mevanery Morgan is going to allow unauthorized persons access to the executive elevator?"

  Fake Sam smiled. "She will, if the alternative is watching Simon Frost's brain go extra-crispy." He swiveled his captive around toward Gunter Eckert. "Call her in here, Chairman."

  I wasn't hurt, of course. My body armor had saved me. I waited for an opportunity to make a move without endangering my father.

  Eckert was hesitating, and it made the demi nervous. "Do it now, Gunter! Do it, damn you!"

  He brandished the Kagi for emphasis, and it shifted momentarily away from Simon's head and pointed harmlessly at the boardroom wall behind Eckert. I braced one arm and leg and hurled myself crabwise at the legs of the two men— —at the same time that Joanna, still standing behind Fake Sam at the refreshment bar, shot him in the back with the Ivanov I'd left in my anorak pocket.

  I phoned Karl Nazarian, who was waiting with his gang at the Rampart Tower skyport, and asked for his suggestions on what we should do next. Our contingency plans hadn't included a demiclone on the Board of Directors who would tip off his alien confederates inside the building.