'I wondered why the betting money all went through Ecuador, but maybe there was more I didn't see. But I can't find it, and six hundred thousand is about what you'd expect Bishop to scrape up, and the tilt in the Vegas odds is about right. But… he'd have to be crazy. Stark crazy, and that would explain his killing Crayne too. If he did. Richard, can he do it?'
'Not Army,' Richard said, with his eyes still closed. 'Only Clavell or Poule can control that team. Neither are gamblers. I cannot imagine either routing six hundred thousand dollars through Ecuador, stealing maps, killing a Dream Park security woman and then playing this Game as they have. There is no compulsiveness-' He stopped, considering. 'Except for Clavell's accident on the modular walk. He risked his life to finish the Game. Yes. That makes it possible.'
'And Bishop?'
'Psychologically capable. But capable and culpable are two different things. I agree that he can't force a win for Army. But if he cooperates with Army, and has Acacia Garcia…'
He shook his head again. 'Absurd! Acacia and Bishop and the Army all in conspiracy? Too complex and the winnings split too many ways. A team of two, perhaps. Bishop and Acacia? But Army alone?'
His eyes opened. 'There is something wrong here,' he said quietly.
'What you got?'
'This feels too much like a logic puzzle. 'lf A and B cooperate, then C and D can 't win. But if D gives A a bribe…' That sort of thing. It… is superfluously complex. Deliberately complex.' He grinned. 'A trap for excessively clever minds. I shall look elsewhere.'
They both glanced at the screens first; but Tex-Mits/Army were still crawling through pipes, wiggling legs filmed by an insectile cleaning robot. Now Lopez took control of a small break-room monitor console. His fingers blurred as he accessed the IFGS library, Master's level.
'In the library are computerised versions of every book germane to Gaming. We know about Bishop's The Art of Gaming. What you may not realize is that since 1960, over a dozen different game versions of the source material, The Art of War, have been created. The entire book has been rendered into a series of If-Then propositions.'
'Meaning?'
'The Art of War was uniquely suited to a man like Bishop, who sees the entire world as a zero-sum game, and more importantly, as a black or white proposition-that is, he divides all actions into those things which are good for Nigel
Bishop, and those things that are not. I propose to you that we run those routines, especially the best AI version, which is called, I believe, 'Sun Tsu.' It was designed to give opinions of gaming strategies-chess, go, role playing. You submit the Gaming scenado, and it offers an opinion. I suggest that we enter a synopsis of 'California Voodoo,' available in my own file-'
Tap tap tappity.
'And the moves made thus far-'
He went into fast-playback mode, following Bishop around MIMIC.
'And see what happens.'
Tony licked his lips. 'Ah, Richard. It may be more than that. You have to expand it outside the realm of the Game.'
'To include the gambling, yes.' At first enthusiastic, Lopez had bogged down. He was staring at the screen. 'There are too many variables now,' he said. 'Too many to feed them into the computer. Yes. Too complex for the machine. We must trust our own minds, yes?'
Richard Lopez sipped his coffee, thinking, and then, very lazily, asked, 'The money was routed through Ecuador?'
'Yes.'
'Why Ecuador? Drug money?'
'Fifty years ago, maybe. Now it's old money, and there are service corporations running parts of the government.'
A long pause. 'Is Ecuador part of the Barsoom Project?'
'Heard a joke about that.' Tony leaned back. 'The Barsoom Project is much like the European Space Agency, circa 1990 or so. That is, countries put in X amount of dollars, and they get back a guaranteed X dollars in the shape of contracts.'
''Sounds fair.'
'But it doesn't really work out. Some countries simply don't have sufficient industrial base to produce the goods. Ecuador is one of them. I heard someone say that Ecuador had put in like three hundred million dollars and that Barsoom was gonna end up with enough Ecuadorian toilet paper to gift-wrap Phobos. They want a launching base for the Phoenix F. Being near the equator, it might actually save a little fuel, but Ecuador simply can't cut the mustard-not in the next forty, fifty years. Then it might be a different story.'
'I've been in the hospital,' Richard said in nonapology. 'What-'
'I only meant they're on the equator, Richard. That's why it's Ecuador, and that's why they might be king of the walk when the Barsoom Project is ready to start testing skyhook devices on Mars. I know of at least six ways of getting to orbit without rockets. Mostly they involve tether technology, none of them can be built yet, and they all have to be on the equator to work. But of course there are other countries…'
Lopez's brow wrinkled. 'Corporations. How many of the countries and companies involved in the Barsoom Project have moved in at this time?'
'Practically none, although some of the spaces have been tailored for their use.'
'But Ecuador would be in a better position twenty years from now if they had better technology now. Could they boy what they need?'
'A lot of it is proprietary. They'd have to steal it.'
'Just thinking aloud. Listen: I will confer with Mitsuko. If she gives permission, I would like to see more information pertaining to this situation. Perhaps…'
He closed his eyes again. 'Just perhaps. Security is an interesting Game,' he said approvingly. 'A larger Game. I think I begin to like Alex Griffin. Very much.'
30
Friday, July 22, 2059 — 11:10 A.M.
S. J. Waters kicked the ventilator grille free of its housing, and it clattered to the ground.
He scooted around in the vent until he could just poke his nose out. He sniffed, and smelled water. An enormous bank of fluorescent tubes overhead cast hard shadows.
SJ pushed himself out and landed on the balls of his feet. The hallway seemed empty. 'All clear,' he whispered.
His head jerked, and he notched an arrow to his bow, pointing it down the corridor at the unexpected splashy-giggly sounds.
Seemed harmless. Merry. Still, his nerves burned.
Alphonse Nakagawa emerged just after him, followed by Major Clavell, and then General Poule.
They formed a protective pocket around Mary-em, who crawled out just before Crystal.
'What do you think?' Poule asked when the last of their party had emerged.
'We think that you had better remain very still,' Tamrni said, stepping out of a door to their left. In a flash, they were surrounded and outnumbered.
Poule was deadly quiet. 'An ambush?''
'Call it a hijack,' Bishop said lazily. 'We want your icons. All of them.'
Alphonse glanced at Mary-em; but no, he'd keep that secret for now. He said, 'You can't just kill us, you know.'
