“The first case I found was a SNAP user named Emery Miller in Venice, California, about a year ago. Since then, I’ve found eleven other customers who had their nanoagents terminated for nonpayment. Each one was from a different division of NMech. None of the deaths looked suspicious, so there was no investigation. But we’re still getting paid. So the problem is not with the accounting programs, but with someone tinkering with the program, someone who’s smart, but not an accountant.”
They stopped eating while to absorb the news. Jim waved off a waiter who hurried to the table to ask if there were a problem. Marta picked up a wine bottle. “I think I need another glass. Anybody else?” There were nods around the table and Marta poured.
“That was about a year ago, you say?” asked Jim.
Denise nodded.
Marta and Jim looked at each other. Marta said one word, “Eva.” Jim nodded slowly and said, “That would have been about when Eva was getting the bid ready for Rockford. Do you think that there’s a connection?”
Movement stopped around the table. Denise looked puzzled, but realized that Marta and Jim, even Dana, knew something that she was about to learn.
The waiter served the main course family-style. Beef stew served in a heavy kettle, accompanied by a delicate chayote squash and fried plantain slices. They pondered Denise’s revelation while they ate. Dana only pushed his food around his plate.
Marta turned to Denise. “Can you make a list of the customers who were affected? We have to deal with this.”
Denise looked miserable. “No. I can’t. I was locked out of the system two days ago. I thought I’d been fired but I’m still on the payroll. Just all of my company access is gone.”
“What the hell is Eva up to?” Jim asked. There was no reply.
The NMech jet circled Boston’s Logan airport until the air traffic controller indicated a break in the commercial traffic and provided landing instructions. The pilot taxied to a private hanger and rolled to a stop. Rafael Cruz and his escorts were met by two more NMech security agents. He was frisked and warned again.
A woman’s voice said, “You’re coming with me.”
Rafael turned and saw a small woman. She directed the security men to flank Rafael Cruz, and then waved her sleeve at the ex-prisoner.
“Recording. Say hello to your daughter. She’ll get the datafeed soon.”
Eva Rozen’s Boston home resembled her office—functional and unadorned. The dwelling’s front door led to a stairway. At the third floor there was a narrow hallway that ran the length of the unit’s spine. The lighting was dim and consisted of old-fashioned light bulbs. There were no brightwalls here. She’d even removed all of the windows in the apartment and replaced the self-cleaning, insulated nanocoated glass with old-fashioned window panes. It had been difficult to find a glazier with ordinary panes, but Rozen had the resources to pay for the out-of-style glass.
The apartment had the same configuration as her childhood home. The first room off the narrow hallway was a small bedroom, unused. This would have been Gergana’s room. Next was the bathroom—cramped by the standards of Eva’s current wealth, but one that matched the dimensions of her childhood apartment. Then a small bedroom, just large enough for a standard-sized box spring and mattress with ordinary sheets, a thin blanket, and a pillow. Next came the master suite and, finally, the kitchen. That was reduced to a small cupboard and refrigerator, stocked with an assortment of the humble foods from her childhood: blood sausage, spicy salami, vinegar-dressed potato salad and mish mash—an olio of vegetables, eggs, cheese, and spices.
The master suite housed the sole concession to luxury, a smart-bed. It was king-sized, ironic given Eva’s stature, and appointed with nanofiber sheets that were as frictionless as graphite and touched her skin as lightly as a whisper. The smartbed adjusted to her fidgety slumber and matched her body temperature, degree for degree. Despite the luxury, she slept no more than three or four hours at a time.
The black-clad NMech security agents who escorted Rafael to Eva’s apartment spent little time observing their CEO’s odd decorating sense. She had used them often as bodyguards, and, on occasion, for special services of a more intimate nature. They delivered Cruz to the guest room. One of the agents subvocalized a quick command to the apartment datapillar and explained to Rafael that he was to remain in the guestroom. He was not to wander anywhere else in the apartment, save the bathroom, nor was he to attempt to remove the security collar unless he enjoyed considerable pain.
“How long am I going to be here?” he asked.
“Don’t know.”
“What about my daughter? Can I see her?”
“Don’t know. Stay put.” They guards rechecked Cruz’s security collar and then left.
Rafael sat down on his bed. It was even more uncomfortable than it appeared. He paced along the room’s length and looked at the bare walls. He’d had more freedom in prison.
The waiter brought coffee—Puerto Rican coffee, of course. “Our coffee was once considered the best in the world,” said Marta, proudly.
“Right, Mom. Everything is better in PR. Is this from Yocahu, too?”
Marta smiled at her son. “Dana,” she said with a gentle intensity. “Every growing thing is a gift from Yocahu.”
Dana had been watching Denise and looked thoughtful. “Mom, we need to get Denise out of Boston, away from Eva.”
“Why?”
“Mom, don’t you see? If Denise knows about whatever Eva is doing, and Eva knows that Denise knows, Eva isn’t going to let Denise alone.”
“So, she’ll fire Denise. We’ll rehire her.”
“It’s not that simple,” said Dana. “Do you think that Eva will let the only person with some proof of what she’s doing just walk away? Eva will, uh, get Denise out of the way.”
Jim spoke, addressing Denise, “My son can be melodramatic.”
“Dad! Listen to me! Ever since Eva took on the Rockford bid there’s been something wrong with her. I could see it even though you tried to keep me away from her. And every time I tried to talk to you about it, you would change the subject. You and Mom wouldn’t admit it. You think Aunt Colleen really had a heart attack? The last thing Eva said to me was that she had some ‘big mischief.’ What if Aunt Colleen was just the beginning?”
Turning to Denise, Dana said, “There’s something wrong with Eva. She’s going to see you as a threat, and she’s not going to let you just walk around knowing about what she’s done. You’ve got to go somewhere safe.”
“I can go home,” Denise said. “I live in Melrose.”
Marta nodded. “Dana, you’re right. And Eva will find Denise in Melrose.” To Denise, “My dear, I’m sorry, but you’ve stepped on a hornet’s nest. She must know that you figured it out.” Marta thought for a moment and then smiled.
“Denise, have you ever been to a rainforest?”
“You mean, like the Amazon?”
“Like that,” said Marta. “There are rainforests all around the world, but the gentlest one is called El Yunque. It’s the most beautiful place on earth, and I have family there you can stay with. No one will find you there.”
She touched her datasleeve and called up a display and was about to make travel arrangements. Dana put his hand on her sleeve.
“Mom, stop,” he said.
“Why? Abuela’s family can take care of Denise.”
“Mom, think. How’s Denise going to get there?”
“She’ll fly. I’ll pay for the ticket.” She turned to Denise. “Don’t you worry—consider this a work assignment. NMech will pay for your travel, and your time.”
“That’s just it, Mom. Eva’s going to find out. You’re still missing the point. Eva may be the richest woman in the world, but right now she may be the most dangerous person in the world. Let me do it. I can jack the airlines
