There was enough gold in that gaudy logo to destabilize the local economy if it was melted down and distributed. Which also explained the security measures protecting it. NeoSun didn’t bother hiding the battle androids standing at either side of their lobby. Indeed, they were a popular selfie backdrop. Tyson had signed that arms import waiver.
They reached the lifts. Like most of the towers on Embassy Row, the lower third of the NeoSun building actually contained shops and residential space, the rents on which were used to offset the impressive costs of running an off-world diplomatic operation that had fewer opportunities to act as a profit center than a traditional building. Still, the communications bottleneck inherent to interstellar travel meant that each embassy operated as a semiautonomous local headquarters for each transtellar corp, more akin to a wholly owned subsidiary than a satellite office. Local business decisions often couldn’t wait for the two-week to three-month communications loop to complete itself, so local administrators were given significant leeway to make the sorts of decisions usually reserved for C-level execs.
It was about the time they passed the hundredth floor that Tyson started to notice something was different. He’d been to many meetings and confabs here, but they’d all been hosted in the grand ballrooms and executive offices around the seventieth floor.
“Where are you taking me?”
“We were told to bring you directly to the Svyatilishche. That’s the extent of my knowledge regarding your visit, Mr. Abington.”
Tyson mentally stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
“Russian for ‘Sanctum,’” Paris said unbidden inside his head. He’d forgotten she was there.
“What the hell does that mean?” he sent back.
“I don’t know. I’m not Sokolov’s AI.”
“Right.” Tyson stewed in his own thoughts for a moment. If anywhere in his tower could be called a sanctum, it was his penthouse office. Locked away from curious onlookers first through its position near the very top of the tower, then through multiple layers of security and anti-eavesdropping equipment. It was even more private than his residence in more ways than one.
So naturally NeoSun had a room just like it. And he was being taken there. Where no one could see him. Where no one could hear him.…
Suddenly, the presence of two armed guards sharing his elevator car felt a lot less routine and a whole lot more ominous.
Tyson shook off the thought. Paris knew where he was. If he fell out of contact for any length of time, she would summon the MPD, even raise the Planetary Defense Reserves if necessary. Which might be necessary to get past the pair of decommissioned military meat-tenderizers in the lobby.
No, he shook off the thought. These people were his business partners, and they were still on his planet, in his city. Sovereign embassy real estate be damned, there were some things one just didn’t do among the ruling class. It wasn’t proper. He was being paranoid. It had been a strange night capped off with a rough morning and he was just a smidgen off his game. That was the extent of it.
The lift reached the hundred and forty-third floor, damn close to the top of the occupied portion of the tower. Another handful of floors and they’d be in machine rooms and the massive, multi-ton harmonic dampener chamber. The doors slid open.
This high up, there wasn’t much square meterage on each floor, so it was a short walk to the Sanctum. As anticipated, the door was lousy with security precautions, from biometric scanners, to video surveillance, to automated defenses, to the size and thickness of the door itself. The male guard entered a dizzyingly long password, thumbed his print, and had his facial topography scanned.
“Tyson,” Paris said into his head. “That room is radio-shielded. There’s a wireless deadzone right around it. I can’t follow you in there.”
“I understand.”
“Be careful.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said to himself as much as to her. “Still, have the cavalry ready if I’m not back in contact in twenty minutes.”
“A lot can happen in twenty minutes.”
The massive door swung open, perfectly balanced on hinges as thick as his wrist.
“Ms. Sokolov wants to speak with you,” the woman guard said. “Privately.”
Tyson’s interest perked. “She’s inside?”
“Ms. Sokolov regrets that she was unable to make the trip, but she has prepared a message.”
“A vid? Are you serious? You could have just sent it over to my assistant.”
“No, we couldn’t. It’s for your eyes only.” She held out a hand, inviting him inside. “Please, enter.”
“You’re not coming?”
“We’re not authorized to see the message. This was part of the instructions that accompanied the packet.”
“So you’re just going to lock a rival CEO inside your company’s most secure facility on the entire planet, alone?”
“Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it,” the man said.
“Please excuse my partner, Mr. Abington. We’ll be waiting here to escort you back to your pod as soon as you’re finished.”
“All right. Don’t forget I’m in there and wander off for a vape break while the door’s locked.”
“We won’t.” The heavy door swung shut and clunked shut with finality. All external noise disappeared, leaving Tyson with only the sound of his
