"Didn't SimTech security notice?"
On the comm screen, the man shrugged. "Not that we've been able to establish. It's possible that the system didn't report an error, although it ought to have done."
"Deliberate? Wiped afterwards and made to look like a fault?"
"It's more than possible, Para. We're looking at it. The good news is that the rest of the building security is on separate systems, which includes the access records for the sim room. That seems to be all right, although we're going to go through it piece by piece to make sure."
"Good."
Annoying news but not, on reflection, as bad as he'd thought at first. There were other, although more painstaking, ways of establishing who had been in the building, and proof of sabotage of that kind would be almost as good as a murder weapon.
Before he read the LiveCorp files, he set the I&I evidence analysis system to work on the witness statements taken at SimTech yesterday. It would cross-reference the statements to produce as definitive a list as possible of who had been in the building at the time of Jarvis's death. He called Mistry, who was back at SimTech for the morning, and told her to go through the list with any receptionists or security guards on duty at the appropriate times.
Then, finally, he started on the files. To his amazement, he managed an uninterrupted run until he'd missed lunch. Then the comm chimed.
"Toreth? Sorry to interrupt."
Sara, with her 'there's a problem' voice. "What?"
"There's a problem at SimTech. The new junior's been on the comm in a tizzy — not that that means much. But the technical people want to speak to you as well, so there probably is something going on."
'The new junior'. For no good reason Toreth could determine, Sara had never liked Belqola, even before his faux pas this morning, and her attitude manifested in a refusal to use his name. Toreth looked at his watch and sighed. "I'll go over on my way to LiveCorp."
They both turned towards Toreth as he opened the door. Warrick looked angry but under rigid self-control. Belqola looked frankly baffled by someone who simply refused to be intimidated by the I&I aura.
"What's going on?" Toreth asked.
Instead of answering, Warrick walked away to his office window, leaving Belqola to explain.
"The systems team say that he's refusing to hand the code over, Para," Belqola said.
If Warrick hadn't been present, Toreth would have asked why the hell the junior couldn't handle this on his own. "What do you mean, 'hand it over'? They don't need his permission — tell them to just take it."
Belqola glanced at Warrick, who didn't react. "According to the team, it's not that simple, Para. Apparently it's hidden somewhere, or protected — they can't get at it without his cooperation."
"Okay. Go and find the team lead and tell him to come up here and wait outside. When you've done that, check how the security team are getting on. They should've written a list of recommendations for places in the building to install I&I surveillance. Deal with that."
It was an excuse to take over handling Warrick, and Belqola clearly knew that it was. However, even though it was the second rescue of the day, he didn't make any kind of protest; he simply looked delighted to hand the difficulty over. It was enough to make Toreth wonder if the man had bought those impressive training grades.
Toreth joined Warrick by the window. "I have authority to demand the code. You've read the warrant; it's all in order. I don't want to start making threats, because we both know what I can do if I have to. Just do it."
"Not a chance."
Despite his pale, set expression, Warrick didn't sound angry, only immovable. If Belqola had been hearing this all morning, Toreth could appreciate why he'd been so keen to leave. He spent a moment considering the most profitable approach.
"Why not?" he asked eventually.
Warrick smiled his unfriendly half-smile. "Do you know, I've been talking to your colleague for what seems like hours and he never once asked that?"
"Belqola doesn't care. Neither do I, actually, because you'll have to do it in the end, but I am curious."
Warrick turned away again and considered the question for a minute, looking out of the window at the gathering clouds. Then he sighed. "Sit down."
Not gracious, but Toreth accepted it as the concession it was. Warrick remained standing, pacing as he talked.
"There are two reasons SimTech is still an independent enterprise. The first is that our sponsors know that ultimately they stand to make phenomenal amounts of money from the work we do here. We had sponsors cutting each other's throats — rumours suggest literally in one or two cases — to be the ones who gave us development capital. As a result, we were able to negotiate contracts which don't infringe on our control of the company."
Warrick paused. "That is the first reason. The second is that I control the source code."
"Control it?"
"Physically control it. Only I have access to it. There is no way that another company can get at it, or force me to give it to them."
Warrick's corporate saintliness was getting harder to believe. "And the rest of the directors are happy with this?"
"It's in all our best interests to keep SimTech safe from corporate predation."
"And that's enough to keep it safe?"
"No." Warrick resumed his pacing. "It's part of a suite of measures to preserve our control. We use various techniques — short contracts, specialisation, modular design — which make it difficult to hire the knowledge away from us. I designed the system architecture and wrote the core systems, and literally no one else knows precisely how they work. But it is the most basic and fundamental measure, yes."
"What happens if you're killed?"
Warrick smiled. "An excellent question. Briefly, I have a very long and detailed will, which is absolutely lawyer-proof. It releases all the sim technology into the public domain in the event of my death."
Toreth blinked. "What?"
"If I were to experience a corporate accident, then the company would be a far less valuable acquisition. I make it a policy to be worth more alive than dead. The release is automatic and time-controlled; there is no way of stopping it. The arrangement isn't widely known, but I've made sure that it's understood in the right places."
Warrick leaned against the windowsill, folding his arms. "I'm sure you can appreciate that after going to all that trouble I cannot allow poorly paid 'experts' from your department to simply walk out of here with the heart of the company. The answer is no."
Toreth considered courses of action. He could force Warrick to cooperate and he could make that force as physical as necessary. However, permission to interrogate witnesses was difficult and tedious to obtain, and he was sure Warrick was more than capable of doing something dramatic to thwart the plan — destroying the code would be his guess.
There had to be another way. Toreth spread his hands, smiled disarmingly. "Okay, say that I do appreciate it. Now, if you could consider my point of view for a minute. I have two bodies, and the sim might've killed them."
"No way in hell." The same, unshakable confidence came without hesitation.
"If you want to prove that to me, I have to let the systems team see that code. That's the only way to clear the sim's reputation. So what do you suggest?"
Finally, he caught Warrick off balance. "What?"
"There must be some kind of compromise. Tell me what it is and I'll discuss it with the systems team leader."
"Mm." Warrick nodded to the door. "You could ask him to come in."
Toreth had completely forgotten about Belqola's errand. A glance into the corridor revealed a patiently waiting man, slight and sandy-haired.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, his face lit up. "Doctor Warrick?"
Warrick smiled politely. "Yes." This was obviously a regular occurrence.
"I'm Carl Knethen." Knethen brushed past Toreth and went to shake hands. "It's an honour to meet you. I'm terribly sorry about the circumstances. I've kept up to date with SimTech's progress — amazing stuff, really fascinating. I'm looking forward to seeing the system very much. We all are."
Warrick's smile turned sour and Toreth ground his teeth. This was exactly the reason that he normally went to great lengths to keep experts of any flavour away from the public. He coughed. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry?" Knethen turned, remembering Toreth's presence. "Oh, yes, of course. What did you want? Para," he added belatedly.
Toreth explained the situation to Knethen, who seemed remarkably sanguine considering that essentially Warrick had characterised his entire team as potential thieves.
"I thought we had —" Knethen began.
"A warrant, yes. But forget that for the moment." Toreth turned back to Warrick. "So, tell me what will allow us to do this the easy way."
Warrick looked between them, then shrugged. "Very well. Firstly, none of the code leaves the building. It stays here, and your experts work on it here and nowhere else, in a secure room designated by us."
Knethen nodded. "Fine." He grinned. "The coffee'll be better, anyway."
Warrick didn't smile. "They take nothing out of here that isn't vetted by our systems security people. If anything capable of storing information leaves the room they work in, we see it first."
"No." Toreth didn't wait for Knethen's answer. "I can't expose I&I information to outsiders."
"Then don't have them bring any with them. Any special cases we can discuss later, but as a basic principle, I cannot let people walk out carrying anything which might contain this code. Not negotiable. No offence intended," he added to Knethen.
Knethen ignored the apology and stood, rubbing his chin, eyes downcast. "We can work with that," he said eventually. "If we have to."
"There must be no comms," Warrick said. "Personal or otherwise — I'll arrange an admin to handle messages."
Another glance at the systems specialist, and Toreth nodded.
Finally, Warrick smiled slightly. "Then, reserving the right to make minor modifications as necessary, I think I can see my way clear to allowing an inspection of the code."
'Allowing' — the arrogant fuck. Still, Toreth had to admit that the arrogance was justified in this case, since Warrick had just extracted major concessions from an I&I investigation. On the other hand, if it made Toreth's own life easier, why the hell should he care? Leaving the two of them to sort out the details, Toreth headed off for his next appointment.
LiveCorp occupied a classic corporate headquarters in the heart of the New London corporate district. Not a brand-new building, but all the more impressive for its air of old money. Toreth managed to be ten minutes early for his appointment, which he considered the perfect amount — early enough to look respectful but not enough to seem pushy. While he waited, he watched the respectable corporates to-ing and fro-ing, and considered his approach.
Corporate sabotage was neither legal nor, always, subtle. Murders of high-level executives lay on the far end of a spectrum that began with disgruntled employees taking a few euros to steal information or delay a project. Relatively few corporations would take something as far as killing, because the unofficial corporate code dictated tit for tat action, response carefully balanced to each attack. In Toreth's opinion, there were far too many game theorists in the corporate world.
While he might hope that the surviving Tefferas would cooperate fully with the enquiry, it was more likely that they planned to deal with any threat to the corporation by themselves. If they'd wanted a serious investigation by outsiders, they would've pressed for an I&I involvement from the beginning.
Part of I&I's function was to enforce Administration law and (far more nebulously defined) Administration will over the corporations. At the same time, they were expected to ensure that the corporations, and most particularly the senior corporate figures, were allowed to go about their productive lives unmolested by resisters, criminals or excessive corporate roughhousing.
Defining 'excessive' was one part of the problem. The customary flexibility in the law where the rich were concerned — labelled 'corporate privilege' by resisters — was a murky area. Still, once corporate sabotage escalated to killing, the Administration preferred to step in and put a stop to it.
Except in the instances where they didn't.
Generally, Toreth was adept at finding out which cases to pursue and which to close quietly, unsolved. Here there would doubtless be the usual mess of competing factors, and he'd have to poke around on the edges until he found a solid suspect, or until he received a clear cease and desist from higher up.
When his wait was up, an immaculate admin showed him into a lift, which rose so smoothly he couldn't feel the motion.
The woman escorted him to a door which was flanked by a matched pair of two of the largest bodyguards Toreth had seen in his life. Unusually, they didn't seem to be simply for show — the inspection they gave the visitors was thoroughly professional, including a check on the ID of the admin accompanying him. They were also armed. Legal enough for corporate security, but the sight always irritated Toreth, because signing weapons out at I&I was such a tedious process.
The admin pushed open the door and waved him through.
The room looked to be the antechamber to a main office beyond. Simple, pale colours were the current fashion in corporate design. This office, though obviously newly decorated, had dark, patterned wallpaper and carpets. An interesting statement, for a company that pursued the cutting edge in entertainment technology. The beautiful furniture was also old, or rather antique — old was his own sofa at home.
A man and woman waited for him in chairs set around a small conference table. He recognised them from their security files and from their resemblance to one of his problematical corpses. Their files had given their ages as fifty-four for her, and fifty-two for him, which made Jon Teffera the baby of the family at forty. Very young for a death in corporate circles, or at least for a natural death.