Schismatrix plus - Bruce Sterling [69]
"Ah. One of your proteges. I appreciate his Detentiste sentiments. We're having a little soiree at the Embassy later this week. I'd like to meet Mr. Vetter-ling. To express my admiration."
Lindsay smiled evasively. "You're always welcome at my home, Mr. Beyer. Nora speaks of you often."
"How flattering. Colonel-Doctor Mavrides is a charming hostess." Beyer hid his disappointment, but his kinesics showed signs of impatience. Beyer wanted to leave, to touch base with some other social doyen. Lindsay bore him no resentment for it; it was the man's job. Lindsay himself held a rank in Security. He was Captain-Doctor Abelard Mavrides, an instructor in Investor sociology at Goldreich-Tremaine Kosmosity. Even in these days of the Investor Peace, a rank in Security was mandatory for those in the Shaper academic-military complex. Lindsay played the game, as they all did.
In his role as theatrical manager, Lindsay never alluded to his rank. But Beyer was well aware of it, and only the grease of diplomatic politesse allowed them to be friends.
Beyer's light-blue eyes scanned the crowded lobby, and his face stiffened. Lindsay followed the man's gaze.
Beyer had spotted someone. Lindsay sized the man up at once: microphone lip bead, ear-clasp audiophones, clothing that lacked finesse. A bodyguard. And not a Shaper: the man's hair was sleeked back with antiseptic oils, and his face lacked Shaper symmetry.
Lindsay reached for his video monocle, fitted it to his right eye, and began filming.
Beyer noticed the gesture and smiled with a hint of sourness. "There are four of them," he said. "Your production has attracted a man of distinction."
"They look like Concatenates," Lindsay said.
"A state visit," Beyer said. "He is here incognito. It's the head of state from the Mare Serenitatis Republic. Chairman Philip Khouri Constantine." Lindsay turned aside. "I don't know the gentleman."
"He is not a friend of Detente," Beyer said. "I know him only by reputation. I can't introduce you."
Lindsay moved along the wall, keeping his back to the crowd. "I must visit my office. Will you join me for a smoke?"
"Lung-smoking?" Beyer said. "I never acquired the habit."
"Then you must excuse me." Lindsay fled.
"After twenty years," said Nora Mavrides. She sat before her console, her Security jacket thrown carelessly over her shoulders, a black cape over her amber-colored blouse.
"What's possessed him?" Lindsay demanded. "Isn't the Republic enough for him?"
Nora thought aloud. "The militants must have brought him here. They need him to back their cause here in the capital. He has prestige. And he's no Deten-tiste."
"That's plausible," Lindsay said, "but only if you turn it around. The militants think Constantine is their pet unplanned, their loyal general, but they don't know his ambitions. Or his potential. He's manipulated them."
"Did he see you?"
"I don't think so. I don't think he would have recognized me if he had." Lindsay stuck his spoon moodily into a carton of medicinal yogurt. "My age disguises me."
"My heart sank when I saw the film from your monocle. Abelard, these years, they've been so good to us. If he knew who you were, he could ruin us."
"Not completely." Lindsay forced himself to eat, grimacing. The yogurt was a special preparation for non-Shapers whose intestines had been rendered antiseptic. It was bitter with digestive enzymes. "Constantine could denounce me. But what if he does? We'd still have the aliens. The Investors don't give a damn about my genetics, my training.... The aliens could be our refuge."
"We should attack Constantine. He's a killer."
"We're not the ones to talk on that score, darling." Lindsay gripped the carton with his mechanical hand; its thin walls buckled precisely. "I always meant to avoid him if I could. It was something I fell into, a roll of the dice...."
"Don't talk that way. As if it were something we can't help." Lindsay drummed his iron fingers. Even the arm was part of his disguise. The antique prosthetic had once belonged to the Chief Justice, and Lindsay's affectation of it hinted