The room was only a few meters across, but it was jammed with an eclectic collection of furniture and artifacts. Dodger was poking about among the jackdaw's nest of furnishings and decorations, but Sam paid him no heed. His eyes were locked on a large oil portrait of a woman that dominated the wall opposite the doorway.
'Quite attractive for a norm,' Dodger commented when he noticed Sam's fixed stare.
'Janice,' was all Sam could say.
'Find anything interesting?' Dodger reached for his Sandier as soon as he recognized the voice, but she was faster. She snatched the weapon from his fingers before he could get a grip. He kicked the chair back as he stood, but she skipped clear. He spun, hoping to get inside her aim, but again she was too quick for him. He eased back against the table, forcing his muscles to relax. Elven reflexes weren't good enough to dodge bullets at this range.
Hart smiled at him. 'Much more reasonable reaction.'
'What do you want?'
'To talk.'
'That is obvious. Else, I would not be breathing.' She shrugged and lowered the muzzle of the Sandier, but Dodger felt tension in her still. Gauging the distance between them, he briefly entertained the idea of a move, before dismissing it as foolish. He'd seen her in action and knew he wasn't her match. She would be ready for anything he tried.
'Speak, then. You have captured my attention.' She hesitated before saying, 'I want to offer my help.'
Was she serious? After what she had done to him, how could she expect Sam to let her anywhere near him? 'He doesn't trust you anymore. I don't either.' Her smile was sad. 'You should understand how compelling previous arrangements can be, Dodger. Have you told him who had you get him involved in this mess, or that you're still passing his plans on to Estios?'
'You didn't tell him, did you?'
'Not yet, but I could.'
She gripped the Sandier by its barrel, carefully lowered it to the floor, and leaned it against the wall, and stepped away from the weapon. Her actions were likely intended as a sign of her peaceful intent and meant to reduce the tension between her and Dodger. He found himself considering her motivations, and the possibilities only made him more nervous.
'We can help each other, Dodger.' 'If you really want to help, you'll go back where you came from. He's screwed up enough now as it is.' Her brow furrowed. 'What's happened? Is he hurt?'
Her concern seemed genuine, but she was a good actress. She had thoroughly fooled Sam. He considered the wisdom of telling her what was wrong with Sam, and decided that her reaction might provide a clue to the motivation behind her recent actions. If not, there was the slim chance that she might have some data that applied to the riddle of the painting.
'There was a picture of a norm woman in Hyde White's sanctum. He said it was his sister.'
She grasped the situation at once. 'A norm woman? I thought she had goblinized. When was the painting made?'
'The date within the artist's cartouche was mis year's.'
'And the artist?'
'His identity is a mystery.'
'So what have you been doing?' 'He's been brooding when he hasn't been rerunning the tapes we got of Hyde-White's apartment. I've been trying to break into the OWN personnel files.' 'With no luck, I expect.'
He was annoyed by her casual assumption of lack of progress. 'I am the Dodger. It is only a matter of time.'
'Isn't it always.'
She reached into her satchel, and he tensed again. She offered him a tentative smile along with a raised hand. Her other hand slowly emerged from the bag, holding a slim black chip case. Dodger relaxed as she opened the case and selected an unmarked chip carrier. When she held it out, he recognized the molding as UCAS government issue.
'Try this in your deck,' she said. 'It's a one-shot can-opener. I've been saving it for a special occasion.'
Dodger took the carrier. Unable to contain his curiosity behind the thrust and parry of shadowtalk, he asked, 'Why are you doing this?'
'Let's just say I've got an inquiring mind.' The lure of using her toy did not keep him from running diagnostics on it before slotting it into his deck. Slipping into the Matrix soothed him; in the electron world he had no worries. Well, only one; and it hadn't shown its mirror face in weeks. His meat was already at her mercy, but he would be safe enough until she got what she wanted.
He was amazed at the beauty and elegance with which her can-opener cut the OWN ice and slipped him into their files. The hunt was short and successful. He dumped his swag back to the deck and exited the GWN architecture. As he cleared the boundary, the can-opener evaporated. He jacked out.
Janice Verner's name was on a list of special consultants for GWN that he scrolled onto the display screen of his cyberdeck. Most of the other names meant nothing to Dodger; they had never before appeared in all his searching through portions of the Matrix associated with the members of the Hidden Circle. The one name he recognized was that of Karen Montejac. Unfortunately, Hart noticed his reaction to the name.
'You know her?' she asked.
'The, ah, lady works for a… a former client.'
'So, what's the connection?'
'There isn't one.'
Hart wouldn't let it go. 'Guessing, or do you have evidence?''
' 'I have deferred the evaluation of connections to a higher authority who has ruled out the possibility.''
The look on Hart's face told him that she didn't like his answer. From her earlier threat, he suspected that she knew he was referring to the professor. She finally nodded in acceptance, apparently willing to concede to the professor's judgment.
'What is in the Verner file?' she asked. Dodger brought it up on the screen. It took only a little manipulation to crack the lock. The first entry was a transit pass for a corporate flight from Hong Kong to Mexico City.
'Not Yomi?' Hart asked musingly, then she smiled. 'There's your answer to your problem. The date on that flight is after Sam's sister's exile. If Hyde-White recruited her, it would have been at the gulag, and she would have been whatever she had turned into by then, no longer a norm woman.'
'The painting may have been done from an old picture.'
Hart snorted. 'Even if it were, what reason would he have for wanting it? She wouldn't, if she's like most people who go through the change. No, Sam was meant to see this painting. The fat druid's a manipulative bastard and likes playing mind games.' 'How do you know that?'
'Personal experience,' she said bitterly. 'Trust me. The portrait's got to be a fake, a ploy to throw him off stride.'
Something seemed out of place to Dodger. 'How would Hyde-White have known Sam was going to see it?'
Shrugging, Hart said, 'Maybe he was going to plant it somewhere else.'
Her explanation still seemed to be missing a chip.
'Why do it at all?'
'I don't know. But I do know that the fat man's a devious bastard and a class-A manipulator. He's the one who really started the Circle, you know. Even led the research that got them the wicker man ritual. He's the real power behind the Circle.'
'As Merlin was behind Arthur,' Dodger said, remembering the imposed imagery of the Circle's computer architecture.
'What?'
'Nothing. Just a literary allusion. So, what to we do about this?''
