was moving at what even Heikki had to admit was a reasonable pace. It slid up to the double-levelled departure deck, and attendants moved to swing back the heavy hatches. Heikki filed off with the other passengers, bracing herself for possible questions. If the midlevel residence pods of EP4 were like their counterparts throughout the rest of the Loop, those attendants would have security responsibilities as well. Somewhat to her surprise, however, no one questioned her, and she followed the rest of the passengers through the station’s massive double doors. She did not pause, however, until she had turned a corridor corner at random, and was out of sight of any lurking securitrons. At least, I hope so, she thought, and reached for her data lens.
According to the plan she had retrieved from the station directory, the Pod’s layout was non-standard.
The usual quadrangles that held individual flats and the small, necessary clusters of service merchants had been broken up into smaller, asymmetrical units. Maybe as compensation, the corridors were unusually well marked, walls subtly color-coded, each junction displaying a central rosette like an ancient compass rose that named the corridors shooting off in each direction. It was easy enough to figure out the quickest route to Galler’s flat by comparing the numbers at the last intersection with the names in the map, but even so Heikki kept her data lens closed in the palm of her hand, a ready reference if needed.
Galler’s apartment was one of four that lay off a cul-de-sac off one end of a corridor of service shops. It was late in the day, by EP4’s clock, and most of the human-monitored stores were closing; only a few people, mostly midlevel employees by their uniforms, stood in the vestibules of the robot vendors, choosing the night’s dinner. Heikki made her way slowly past the row of shops, pausing once to pretend to study the service menu displayed outside a small service broker’s. The menu’s polished surface reflected the corridor behind her: no one seemed to be paying the least attention to her. The precaution had been automatic, as automatic as her refusal to use her club’s facilities, and she was frowning to herself as she turned away from the little storefront. There was no need to take such care, no need that she could rationally see, and yet, instinctively, every time…. She put the thought aside, frowning, and turned toward the cul-de-sac.
The alley was closed a meter from its mouth by a security grill. There was a call box on the wall to one side, however, and Heikki crossed to it, adjusting the bezel of her lens as she did so. Galler’s home contact code flickered in the lens’s depths, and she quickly punched those numbers into the call box’s tiny keyboard. Lights flashed across the tiny display plate, but there was no answer from inside the grill. Heikki’s frown deepened, and she repeated the codes, this time adding the standard emergency numbers. Still nothing happened.
“Come on, Galler,” Heikki said, between her teeth, staring at the call box as though she could force a response by sheer will. Could he still be at work? she wondered. It didn’t seem likely—it was a point of status to be able to leave on time, and Galler had always been punctilious about taking every advantage of his position.
“Oh, are you looking for Galler?”
The light voice came from the mouth of the alley. Heikki controlled herself with an effort, and turned to face the stranger, schooling her face to an appropriate neutrality.
“Yes, I was. Do you know if he’s out?” It was a stupid question, she realized instantly, and hid her annoyance.
“I think he’s moved.” The voice belonged to a woman of indeterminate age, the childishness of her tone and mannerisms belied by the fine lines at the corners of eyes and mouth. Her suit, high-collared and softly tailored, was not quite a uniform. “Or been transferred.”
“Thanks,” Heikki said, through clenched teeth. “I’ll try the directories again.”
She swept past the other woman, out of the alley toward the distant free-transit line. A part of her saw that the stranger did not reach immediately for the palm-lock, but stood watching, until she turned the corner and passed out of sight. Moved again, have you? she thought, the words matching the rhythm of her steps. Not changed the codes? Then, by God, I’ll go to Tremoth, and see how you like that, your sister showing up on your doorstep, and I’d like to see you try to explain that away—
She stopped abruptly, only peripherally aware of the free-transit station’s arches looming ahead of her. This was not the time to approach Tremoth, or the mood in which to do it—if nothing else, she needed to control her own anger, if she was going to have any hope of dealing with Galler. And that meant getting a room for the night—at the Club, probably, or in one of the better hotels, she added silently, pushing away the first picture that thought had conjured for her, of the anonymous transient pods that collected in the spaces around the docks. There was no need for such caution—no need to make herself uncomfortable. She took a deep breath, and continued on through the arches, heading for the tram that would carry her back to the main pods and the better hotels.
Even without prior notice, it was not hard to find a room in one of the exchange point’s moderately priced hostels. Heikki told herself she was glad of its comforts, but could not shake her feeling of unease, and by the next morning, she was more than ready to leave. She curbed her impatience, however, and made herself wait until the morning meetings would be over before settling her bill and calling a jitney to take her across the Ring to the pod where Tremoth kept its adjudications department. That, at least, was the office Galler had listed in the directory; Heikki smiled slightly, anticipating the corporation’s response. If Galler were no longer with that group, and right now that seemed more than likely, she would simply have to make whoever was on duty there tell her where he’d gone—which might be a struggle, she added silently, but I think it’s one I’ll win.
The jitney drew up at the entrance to the pod’s main lobby, a double-finned “airlock” badged with Tremoth’s trefoil logo. The doors opened ahead of her as Heikki crossed the sensors’ invisible line, and a disembodied voice said, “Please state your business and your employee number, if applicable.”
Heikki did not look up, said instead to the young man who sat behind the ring-pedestal, “My business is with Galler Heikki.”
The young man’s hand moved on controls hidden behind the pedestal’s edge, and the overhead speaker cut out with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Dam’—?” He let the words trail off” into a question. When Heikki did not answer, but remained smiling politely, he went on, “How may I help you?”
“My business is with Galler Heikki,” Heikki repeated. To either side of the broad lobby, she could see the corporate touts eyeing her from behind the raised side of their collars, murmuring into the voicepads sewn into the stiffened fabric.
The young man touched his controls again, the movements as well as the results hidden from sight, and said, quite politely, “Who may I say is calling?”
“My name is also Heikki. Gwynne Heikki.”
“Yes, Dam’.” The young man did not look up from his hidden screen. “May I ask your business?”
“It’s personal,” Heikki said, and bared teeth in a smile.
The young man pondered his screen for a moment longer—too long, surely, Heikki thought, for a simple inquiry. “Is Galler in?” She allowed her voice to sharpen slightly, and was rewarded by a swift glance from under the young man’s lashes.
“I’m very sorry, Dam’, I can’t seem to get a precise answer from his department. He seems to be out of his office….” His voice strengthened slightly. “They say, if you’d care to go to the inner lobby, they’ll have an answer by the time you get there.”
Heikki frowned, and one of the touts stepped up to the pedestal. Probably, Heikki thought, in response to a private signal, and she eyed him discouragingly.
“If you’d follow me, Dam’, I can show you the way.” The tout smiled ingratiatingly, showing good teeth.
It was too late to draw back now. Heikki smiled more moderately, and nodded. “Very well. But I hope they’ll have found him by then. I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your valuable time.”
The young man behind the pedestal nodded back, but the tout’s smile widened. “No trouble at all, Dam’, in fact, a pleasure.”
Heikki murmured some proper response, suddenly wary. This was not the way the major corporations generally treated miscellaneous visitors, especially ones who could not claim to be on the usual admittance lists. She followed the tout across the lobby, and past a discreetly armed securitron into the maze of corridors that made up the office complex. As they passed more security stations, her suspicion hardened into certainty. The man she followed was more than a mere tout; the securitrons were too respectful for him to be anything except one of their men. The ordinary workers, keyboarders, data clerks, and so on, were even more respectful, and Heikki could feel a cold knot of fear growing in the pit of her stomach. She put it aside as best she could, all too aware that she had made a mistake in coming here to find Galler. If anything ever wanted discretion, she began, and shoved self-reproach away as well. There was no time for that now; what mattered was to get out of this
