Roslyn had the authority, one way or another, to access the company files locked behind the seal of the courts. Not many people would have that authority, though, which made the bankruptcy and ensuing lawsuits an effective screen against acquiring data on Lafrenz’s activities.
The problem was that she didn’t know when the lab had been constructed. Triple Q had collapsed about six months after the war ended—they had been far from the only major corporation in the former Republic worlds to come apart despite the Protectorate’s best efforts to arrange a smooth transition.
On the other side, Finley and Lafrenz had taken control of the company shortly before the actual Secession. That left a period over four years long in which they’d controlled a major construction company and been able to do whatever they wanted.
“I wish I knew when they finished the Prometheus research,” she said aloud. If the lab on Sorprendidas had been intended to carry out research expanding on the brain-interface work Project Prometheus had done, then logically, they wouldn’t have built the lab before that was done.
But…they wouldn’t have moved into Nueva Portugal with enough money and influence to secure control of Triple Q until they’d been planning on building the lab, so she could assume that the lab would have been built as quickly as possible after they took control.
She had no idea at what point Lafrenz would have decided to cover her tracks by destroying the company, but it would make sense that they’d have started building within, say, six months of her taking control of the company as CEO.
Roslyn ran that into her data as a filter. That brought her down to a mere twenty-eight construction projects across the city. Three neighborhoods, seven apartment complexes, four parks, two hotels, a casino, and eleven office towers.
She pulled up a holographic map of the city and marked those twenty-eight locations in red. Between the parks and the neighborhoods, there were several large swathes of Nueva Portugal lit up in red—plus the casino complex, in one of the exurb communities several dozen kilometers outside the city itself.
None were in the quarantine zone. That area had more to do with where Angus Killough had set up his base than with anything the secret lab was doing.
At least with only twenty-eight targets, they could actually start pointing Huntress’s sensors at the locations and see what they could pick up. The rogue Republic lab would be well concealed, but there were limits.
“I see you couldn’t sleep very well,” Killough observed from the door.
She looked up at him and snorted.
“I had nightmares before this,” she said. “If anyone ever told you naval service was a joyride, well, they lied.”
“I know a few people who would have figured being the Crown Princess’s protégée would be,” Killough said. “Though, as I understand it, you were captured with her.”
Roslyn shivered.
“Yes,” she confirmed shortly. “And that’s as much as I really want to talk about that.”
Being imprisoned and stripped of her magic for weeks had been one of the more unpleasant aspects of her life—and she’d spent two years in the care of Tau Ceti’s “Juvenile Rehabilitation Program.”
To give them credit, the JRP had tried to live up to the R part of their name, but she’d still lived in a detention center for those two years. It wasn’t something she talked to most people about, and it ranked well above being a prisoner of war in terms of experiences.
“Fair,” Killough conceded, stepping around to study the map of Nueva Portugal. “What are we looking at here, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Everything Triple Q started construction on in the six months after Lafrenz took control of the company,” Roslyn told him. “It gives us a first cut at potential locations, but doing detailed scans of each of the sites could take days.”
She shrugged.
“I’m prepared to spend those days,” she admitted. “But if you’ve thoughts on narrowing it down, I’m listening.”
The MISS agent stood across the hologram from her, studying the image of the city in silence.
“Power and victims,” he finally said. “We know there’s been people going missing. We can’t necessarily map the excess over what we should be seeing, but we can map roughly where missing people disappeared from.
“Give me a few minutes.”
“And power?” Roslyn asked.
“Even if they have their own power-generation facilities, they’re better off with access to the grid to help bury their emissions if nothing else,” Killough said. “If you want to map up the power grid, I’ll map up the missing people. Let’s see if that narrows it down any, shall we?”
“I’ve had enough experience with drugs and gamblers in my life that my first urge is to mistrust a casino,” Roslyn admitted fifteen minutes later as their three-layer map took shape.
“It’s not a perfect match,” Killough said. “I don’t see a perfect match on here, but I agree it looks…fishy. Right on the main transmission line from the fusion plant at Nuevo Habanero and definitely the highest density of missing people outside the city.”
“That could just be regular organized crime,” she pointed out. “Not to lean on stereotypes or anything, but casinos aren’t always the cleanest of organizations in any sense.”
“Agreed,” he said. “They’re also just off the main transport routes off the peninsula: highway and monorail alike.”
The monorail stop was probably part of why the casino was situated where it was. It was only walking distance from the casino if you were determined, but a few seconds’ search told her there was a free automated shuttle running a ten-minute loop between the station and the casino.
“Enough traffic and power flow that no one is going to question anything in terms of supply trucks or movement,” Roslyn concluded. “If they’re even a little careful, they
