Architects of Emortality - Brian Stableford [123]
“They didn’t get her, did they?” she said.
“No, they didn’t.” Charlotte knew that she ought at least to feign astonishment and outrage, but all she actually felt was a sense of bitter resignation.
“How?” she asked dully. “How could they possibly fail to intercept her?” “She’d already left the house when the local police first got there,” said Hal dispiritedly. “That was long before McCandless began to show signs of distress.
He told them she’d gone for a moonlight swim, and still refused to believe that she wasn’t exactly what she seemed to be. There were mechanical eyes set to follow her, of course, mounted on hoverflies and flitterbugs—but as soon as they entered the water they were mopped up by a shoal of electronic fish. By the time they were replaced by more robust entities she was beyond the scope of their location faculties. The flying eyes watching avidly for her to surface couldn’t possibly have missed her, so we must infer that she had a breathing apparatus secreted offshore and some kind of mechanized transport.” “A submarine?” said Charlotte incredulously.
“We’d have detected anything as big as that,” said Hal. “More likely a simple towing device of some kind.” “But we know where she’s going, don’t we?” Charlotte said. “When she comes out of the water again on Walter Czastka’s island, we should be able to stop her from reaching him. In any case, he knows how dangerous she is, even if McCandless didn’t.” “He certainly knows,” Hal agreed. “The thing is—does he care? I can’t get a peep out of him. His sim is stonewalling all communications. If he knows why she’s after him, he certainly isn’t going to tell us—and I’ve trawled every remaining record relating to Maria Inacio, however obliquely. There’s no clue as to what might have happened to her. She probably never said a word to anyone—except, we must presume, Jafri Biasiolo. The Kauai police have dispatched four helicopters to wait for her, but Czastka’s sim has forbidden them permission to land.
They’re prepared to remain airborne until they actually catch sight of her—at which point his permission becomes irrelevant, because they’ll be pursuing a fugitive.” “What about me?” Charlotte asked urgently. “Can I get there in time?” “Who can tell? There’ll be a helicopter ready for you and Lowenthal when you land, and there’s also a machine awaiting Oscar Wilde, although he may prefer to make use of the police vehicle if you and Lowenthal are willing to take him along. Notionally, the whole operation is under my command—which, in effect, puts you in immediate control as my proxy. I’m hoping that if Biasiolo really has set things up to provide a ringside seat for Wilde, the woman won’t proceed to stage six until you and he arrive. In theory, of course, Wilde will be unable to land unless Czastka relents and gives him permission, but he’s probably not as enthusiastic to stick to the letter of the law as the commander at Kauai.
“In case you haven’t noticed, by the way, you’re surrounded by caster flies. So are the copters from Kauai. For every flitterbug we’ve got on Czastka’s island, the news tapes probably have a dozen. The whole of the morning news, bar fifteen seconds of other headlines, was given over to the five murders, described in the minutest detail. Having identified the text on the first condolence card, they’re headlining it Flowers of Evil—except for that crank French station which is still trying to maintain the purity of the native tongue. As soon as we failed to apprehend the woman on Kauai the MegaMall took the gloves