line voice was far crisper than his real voice, and Cerise was, as always, briefly amused by the contrast. She smothered her smile as he continued, oblivious to the differences. “What does Interpol say about payloads?”
That was always the real question, the virus’s intent, and Cerise nodded her approval. She had picked Zemtzov to be the system’s virus researcher, and was pleased to see her decision borne out. “Nothing too bad, or so Mabry said, but there’s still been some damage.”
“Collateral or primary?”
“I don’t know for sure—don’t know if they know.” Cerise slid Mabry’s disk into one of the transfer drives. “I have the dissections Interpol did.”
“Ah.” Zemtzov’s icon shifted color again—he was an expressive communicator—and she could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Then if there was anything—and I think Shaja’s right, the intruder didn’t leave us any presents—we should be able to track it.”
“Good,” Cerise said. “I’m copying you Interpol’s files. I want you to take another run through the system, especially Corvo’s volume, Shaja, and sweep specifically for anything that’s in the file.”
“You got it, boss,” Zemtzov said.
Czaja said, more slowly, “I’m going to get complaints. The system’s already running slow.”
“They’ll have to live with it,” Cerise said. She looked up to see Baeyen standing in the doorway, still rubbing at the damp line on her chin. “Blame it on me if you have to. I’ll handle any complaints.”
“I’ll try to keep them calm,” Czaja said. “But they won’t be happy.”
“They’ll survive,” Cerise said. “We need to do that sweep.”
“All right,” Czaja said.
Cerise sighed—he was good at his job, but painfully negative, always ready to find the bad things about any suggestion—and said, “Let me know when you’re finished.” She cut the connection as soon as they’d begun their acknowledgments, looked up at Baeyen. “Sorry, Jensey. Have a seat.”
“No problem,” the dark woman said equably, and settled herself in the chair opposite Cerise. “What’s up?”
Cerise smiled. “Enough. I’ve got Shaja and Alec running another sweep of the Corvo volume. Interpol says that the intrusions they’ve been dealing with have involved viruses.”
Baeyen made a face, spread her hands wide. “That’s going to slow down everything.”
“So I’ve been told,” Cerise said. “I also hear Treasury was wanting to talk to me.”
Baeyen’s eyes slid sideways. Embarrassment? Cerise wondered. Or guilt? “That’s right,” the dark woman said. “I didn’t know what you wanted to tell them, so I told them they should come back.” She hesitated. “I didn’t mean to make trouble with Coigne.”
“You didn’t,” Cerise said. It wasn’t true, but the other woman’s concern had made her feel vaguely protective. “When they come back, give them—no, we’ll make a couple of disks for them, analysis and a transcript of the event. Get Sirico to pull that together for me, will you, and copy it to me when he’s done.”
Baeyen nodded, and slipped a notepad machine out of her pocket, began chording notes into its memory.
“If I’m here,” Cerise went on, “I’ll talk to them, and if I’m not, see if you can get them to set up an appointment, all the usual stuff.”
“Right,” Baeyen said. “Like I can tell Treasury what to do.”
“I know,” Cerise said. “Do your best. This isn’t the main thing, though.”
Baeyen looked up warily at that, and Cerise leaned forward, steepling her hands on the desktop. “I’m going after Trouble—the new Trouble—myself,” she said. “Which means I’ll be leaving you in charge of the systems, Jensey.”
Baeyen’s eyes widened, a look of shock replaced almost at once by one of calculation. Then that, too, was gone, and she looked back down at the notepad’s tiny screen. “What do you need me to do?”
“As I said, you’ll be handling the systems once I leave,” Cerise said. “I don’t know exactly when it’ll happen—it all depends on how long it takes me to track down newTrouble—but I want to get everything in place now.” She watched Baeyen as she spoke, saw the other woman’s struggle to keep the excitement from her face as she chorded information into the notepad: Baeyen was no less ambitious than anyone at Multiplane, and she could see the possibilities. Not that it mattered, Cerise thought. She was still better than Baeyen. “Aside from getting you briefed, I need to arrange for a car, not with a driver, to be available for me on an hour’s notice—less if transport can manage it—and to get the paperwork written up so I can draw on the emergency funds.”
Baeyen nodded, head still down, watching words scroll past on her screen. “All right. I’ll put the paperwork in train—I can do it myself, or I can give it over to one of the secretaries, if you don’t mind word getting out.”
“That’s why I asked you to do it,” Cerise said.
“I’ll take care of it, then,” Baeyen said, without annoyance. “Ditto for the car. I’ll also get on that disk for Treasury.”
“Sirico can do that,” Cerise said, and Baeyen nodded.
“After that—whenever you want to start showing me things, I’m ready.”
“Get the paperwork going,” Cerise answered, “then come talk to me.” She was startled by her own reluctance, took herself firmly in hand. “I’ll start putting together notes for you tonight.”
Baeyen nodded, chorded a final bit of data to her notepad, and rose gracefully to her feet. “I’ll talk to you before you go home, anyway,” she said, and let herself out, closing the office door behind her.
Cerise sighed, and looked down at the desktop with its scattered icons. She should really start on the package for Baeyen, and she knew it, but she reached instead for the input cord. It wouldn’t hurt anything to go out on the nets for an hour or two, might even help her give Baeyen an up-to-the-second picture. She grinned at the thought, well aware of what she was doing, but plugged herself in, pushing a stray piece of hair back out of the way. She did need to see how people were responding to Trouble’s challenge— and besides, she thought, I just might be able to pass Mabry’s warning to Trouble. That was an odd thought, that she might encounter the other woman on the nets after all these years, an uncomfortable thought—she had always somehow assumed that Trouble had quit for good, left the nets entirely— but she put the idea aside. She owed Trouble this much, that was all that mattered.
