He watched the game for a few moments, then turned back to Wil. 'You especially should be pleased by this turn of events, Brierson.'
'I suppose so.' Wil resented admitting anything to Genet. 'If this is connected to Manta's murder, it may break the case.'
'That's not what I meant. You were shanghaied, right?'
Wil gave a brief nod.
'Ever wonder what became of the fellow who bushwhacked you?' He paused, but Brierson couldn't even nod to that. 'I'm sure dear Yelen would like this kept from you, but I think you deserve to know. They caught him; I've got records of the trial. I don't know how the skunk ever thought he could evade conviction. The court handed down the usual sentence: He was bobbled, timed to come out about a month after you. Personally, I think he deserved whatever you might do to him. But Manta and Yelen didn't work that way. They rescued everyone they could. They figured every warm body increases the colony's chances.
'Marts and Yelen made him promise to stay out of your way. Then they gave him a shallow disguise and turned him over to the NMs. They figured he could fade into the crowd there.' Genet laughed. 'So you see why I say this is an enjoyable twist of fate for you, Brierson. Putting pressure on the NMs Ms gives you a chance to step on the insect who put yon here.' He saw the blank expression on Wil's face. 'You thin I'm putting you on? You can check it out easily enough. The NM Director, President-whatever they call him-has taken a real shine to your friend. The twerp is on Fraley's staff now. saw them a few minutes ago, on the other side of this game.'
Genet's gaunt face parted in a final smile. He gathered his 'property' close and walked into the darkness. 'Check it out, Brierson. You'll get your follies yet.'
Wil stood quietly for several minutes after the other left. He was looking at the game, but his eyes did not track the glowball anymore. Finally, he turned and walked along the outskirts of the crowd. The way was lit whenever the ball rose above the fans. That light flickered white and green and yellow, depending on whether the ball was live, striking a 'wall,' or out of play. Wil didn't notice the colors anymore.
Steve Fraley and his friends were sitting on the far side cat the court. Somehow they had persuaded the other spectators to stand clear of the sidelines, so they had a good view even sitting down. Wil stayed in the crowd. From here he could observe with little chance that Fraley would notice.
There were fifteen in the group. Most looked like staff people, though Wil recognized a few ungovs. Fraley sat near the middle, with a couple of his top aides. They spent more time talking to the ungovs than watching the game. For a government type, of Steve had plenty of experience with the soft sell. Twice back in the 2090s he'd been elected President of the Republic.
It was an impressive achievement-and an empty one: By the end of the twenty-first, the New Mexico government was like a beach house when the dunes shift. War and territorial expansion were not feasible-the failure of the Kansas Incursion had shown that. And the Republic couldn't compete economically with the ungoverned lands. The grass was truly greener on the other side of the fence, and with unrestricted emigration, the situation only got worse. As a matter of frank competition, the government repealed regulation after regulation. Unlike Aztlan, the Republic never formally disgoverned. But in 2097, the NM Congress amended the constitution over Fraley's veto-to renounce all mandatory taxing authority. Steve Fraley objected that what was left was not a government. He was obviously correct, but it didn't do him much food. What
It was not enough for Steve Fraley. He used what was left of presidential authority to assemble the remnants of the NM military machine. With a hundred fellow right-thinkers he bobbled forward five hundred years-to a future where, it was hoped, sanity had returned.
Wil grimaced to himself. So, like all the cranks and crooks and victims who overshot the Singularity, Fraley and his friends ended up on the shore of a lake that had once been open ocean-fifty million years after Man.
Wil's eyes slid from Fraley to the aides beside him. Like many self-important types, these two kept their apparent age in the middle forties. Sleek and gray, they were the NM ideal of leadership. Wil remembered both from twenty-first-century news stories. Neither could be the... creature.. , he sought. He pushed through the crowd, closer to the open space around the NMs.
Several of those listening to Fraley's sales pitch were strangers. Wil stared at them, applying all the tests he had invented during the day.
Scarcely conscious of the movement, Wil edged out of the crowd. Now he could see all the NMs in Fraley's group. A few were paying attention to the discussions around Fraley; the rest were watching the game. Wil studied each one, matching what he saw with the Kid, the Exec, and the Janitor. There were several vague resemblances, but nothing certain.... He stopped, eves caught on a middle-aged Asian. The fellow didn't resemble any of the three, yet there was something strange about him. He was as old as Fraley's top advisers, yet the game had all his attention. And this guy didn't have the others' air of assurance. He was balding, faintly pudgy. Wil stared at him, trying to imagine the man with a head of hair, and without eyefolds or facial flab.
Make those changes, and take thirty years off his apparent age... and you'd have... the Kid. The nephew of the guy who was robbed. This was the
