Code Name Igor Read online

  Axel bowed. "Neu Frankfurt was conquered just thirty-five years ago, so even the halfer Cyborgs were still in touch with the older culture. The Enemy contacted the Rebel Underground and gave them both poisons. They started their rebellion with the Army bases in a coordinated attack. They got the plague into the officers' water supply, and the zivvy eater into the Cyborg soldiers’ food. Three days later, our armies were theirs. The enemy opened portals to Worlds with no intelligent life, and all the True Men were exiled. The halfers, even the Cyborgs, remained behind, accepted by their families.

  "On Novaya Moskva, with a two hundred year history, the rebellion was brutal.

  "As far as I can tell, so brutal the Enemy rescued a lot of our people, True or not. Multiple large cities were dosed with the Plague. The Families fled to the cities, especially Kiev, hoping to flee through a portal to escape the Plague. The portal maker failed, dead or poisoned, the center of the city turned into a death trap, and only the Enemy opening portals to other worlds prevented all of them from being killed. The new government first dosed everyone with the dissolver, to get rid of the zivvy, then decided that wasn't good enough. They wanted all the True Genes gone. Millions have been killed, so far." Axel winced. "Most other Worlds are falling in between, in their . . . adjustments."

  The Inquisitor nodded. "If I may show you a short recording?"

  The one Axel had made. Two of the Enemy chatting with the new Government. Hisses as one of them was called "Ice."

  The Inquisitor looked at his father and grandfather. "So at the first indication of the Plague here, you must drain all municipal water systems, treat the entire system with salt brine. Then restart it."

  "But . . ."

  "You need to give orders to everyone to store water. Now. When the first case appears it will be too late." Axel looked around. "If these old estates have wells, now is the time to bring them back into use."

  The Inquisitor nodded. "The information I seek is simple. Have the Three Hundred been disabled? Will they be able to teach the next tier," a bow to his grandfather. "To make zivvy? Or are we done with that, and must adapt?"

  A deep sigh. "Yes. We believe all Three Hundred are powerless. And . . . we will find out if we can make zivvy, when by their last order, we open a portal to them, next year."

  The old man shrugged that away. "So . . . what is the situation on Siberia Max?"

  "Not bad." The Inquisitor shrugged. "We've heard rumors of the Plague, and reduced portal travel, while increasing our surveillance. This visit was triggered by Tier Four Hub Budapest Reborn attempting to invade, thinking the Research Center must have a large stock of zivvy. That was the first we'd heard of the Three Hundred being attacked, and the supply of zivvy cut off."

  Axel took over. "I suspect the Enemy is randomly finding Alliance Worlds and poisoning them. That would explain how the Plague has jumped around so oddly, skipping worlds that ought to have been affected. So Tier six and seven, out from Siberia Max have been attacked, but we have had no problem. Several Tier threes and fours, but not connecting to us, have been hit, but our link has been free of it.

  "Of the twenty-two worlds I've checked since mid-summer, the affected worlds are a scatter of all types and stages, all three of the Allied Families, many without connections to any other Plague Worlds. But once started, the pattern of the spread of the plague is the same. One or more large cities, generally starting in the government district and then in large areas of the city, but affecting very few rural areas. People fleeing, even the ones who've lost their Power, do not infect other people. People who remain in the infected areas keep falling ill."

  The old men exchanged glances. "That does explain a lot. Especially how the Plague spreads so poorly in the countryside. All right son. I'll forgive you for treason, this once, now can you get home?"

  "Yes. We'll drive off . . ."

  "Don't bother. We'll take all this to the Council in the morning. But you'd better be gone by then."

  Axel glanced at his watch. "Half an hour until our first possible pickup time."

  "We'll walk you out then. So, Grigory, how are my great grandchildren these days?"

  A two foot and a bit deep hole just off the driveway, with the heavy Cyborgs closing in to loom when he used power to make the narrow trench . . . "It'll self-destruct fifteen minutes after I turn it on. I suspect that'll involve a lot of nasty acid, so I'd recommend against digging it up any time soon."

  That got him even more dubious looks, and at nine, when he turned it on and lowered it carefully into the hole . . . Numbers Two and Three Gorbachev had been hustled back inside. He filled in the hole and trotted back to the Battle Limo, delighted to see the wavering lights and sparks.

  And a familiar scene on the other side. A forty foot drive and they were home.

  The Inquisitor sighed and headed for the Governor and the Boss.

  Grinning techs pounced on Axel. "Can you come work with us?

  "Ah, success, then . . . as time and bosses allow, I would love to."

  So long as Budapest Reborn behaves and no one else thinks we have zivvy just sitting around.

  ***

  A stop by the locker room to change into anything but the heavy suit, and he took a cab to yet another grocery store near the cliff house. Actual groceries. Food that needed to be cooked. A book on a small rack caught his eye. The Adventures of Red and Brown, number thirty.

  Bit of a jump from twelve, perhaps.

  He bought it anyway, and lugged everything up the hill to the house.

  He didn't quite burn his late dinner, his breakfast . . . he was definitely going to need practice with eggs.

  He decided to walk before taking a cab. And he needed to drop off the book . . .

  Dina waved from her patio on top of their garage. "Today you're Brown again!"

  He tossed the book. She gave a happy yip and he walked on, smiling.

  Up Top, he spent two hours giving mentalist lessons to "The Quad" of portalmakers. Vikenti, Arseny, Fedya, and Boleslav. Good strong mentalists, who had grown up expecting to either be wired up in coffins, or having failed the tests, to be chipped.

  They were very enthusiastic students. They didn't blow anything up, doing group exercises, but it was close.

  "That is why we're out here freezing our asses off, instead of practicing inside like sensible people." Axel stood up and picked up the coat he'd been sitting on. "Class dismissed, go warm up."

  He walked back inside with Dr. Borodin.

  The doctor was grinning. "Do you realize you're about the only person who approves of my research?"

  "Just point out that since 99.9% of portalmarker clones can't open portals, but perhaps a tenth of them could team up to make twenty or so working portalist quads for every thousand clones . . ."

  "Good God!"

  "Yes, it'll be an amazing breakthrough. You'll need to test a whole bunch of clones and figure out what percent and so forth, before they do something stupid like chip them all."

  "That's what they don't like. Unchipped Portalmakers!"

  Axel snorted. "That's what I like the most."

  "Yeah. But we're a distinct minority." Borodin grinned. "They start talking about how they can't be lords! But can they be property if they aren't chipped?"

  Axel snorted. "We'll have to start calling them Free Portalists or something like that. Hire them, pay them salaries."

  Ahead of them, Arseny tripped, turned to stare. "Oh yeah. Free Portalists. I like that!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  Murder and Cows

  Monday, November 19, 3738

  "These are magnified shots of the site of the aneurysm."

  Vlad eyed the picture. "So the blood vessel ballooned out and ruptured?"

  "Well, yes, but while most aneurysms are caused by blood pressure, frequently in weakened old arteries, this is what we call a Traumatic Aneurysm. It started with physical damage to the outer layers of the artery. Looking more closely we can see that there is healing along these
edges consistent with a very hard blow to the head, between two and four days prior to the rupture of the aneurysm."

  The coroner turned to study Vlad. "The thing is, there is no other damage from this postulated blow to the head. I've never seen it before, but there are examples in medical texts of strong Mentalists, with very good training in delicate physical manipulations being able to do repairs to blood vessels. The corollary being that they could probably cause damage as well."

  "And therefore you can't rule out someone killing him?"

  "Exactly."

  "And the actual attack was at least two days prior to the death."

  "Yes."

  "Doctor Volkov . . . thank you for handing me a problem." He took the proffered chip.

  Is there anyone in that house, besides Lord Axel, who could kill like this?

  I know Lord Andre and Lord Nikoli are just a few months younger than he is but . . . what training in Mentalist Techniques have they had? They just simply are not in the same league with their cousin, the Alliance Agent. At whatever level of the Government he answers to. Or Agent of the Inquisitors. He and the Inquisitor clearly knew each other.

  He checked his messages, then headed back for Vinogradov House.

  Where he walked into a domestic disturbance on the front steps.

  Lady Veronika was screeching at the top of her voice, ". . . put up with you for eight horrible years and now I find out you're poor! Yeah, run you little weasel. When my Dad finds out . . . "

  Lord Nikoli kept backing away. Vlad caught something about "Four million rubles is not . . ."

  A car pulled up, and Andre bolted out the front doors and dived in, Nikoli turned and jumped in after him. The car door slammed and the car zoomed off.

  Lady Anastaciya stalked out the doors and made a very unlady-like gesture toward the car. "I'm going to start by killing that sanctimonious smirking asshole, then when my dear husband dares to show his face again . . ." She spun and walked back inside.

  Vlad eyed Lady Veronika. "What happened?"

  "Axel showed us the domestic expenses that we have to pick up, now that Lord Vladimir isn't paying them." Her voice quavered a bit. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to feed and clothe a hundred and forty servants and their sixty children?"

  "No . . ."

  "Twenty-eight thousand rubles a month. Every month. Even though I'm splitting the cost with Anastaciya, that will take nearly half our living expenses. My dress allowance . . . doesn't exist anymore. Axel says we can't redecorate for a year, and we'd best wait three years to get any new cars . . ." A deep sobbing breath. "I don't know how I'll hold my head up in society."

  The two doormen opened the doors for her, standing well back, faces blank.

  Vlad di some quick mental math. That’s less than five rubles a day! Are they living on potatoes and rice?

  "Hmm, yes. But even without the Lord's Council salary, surely his personal accounts . . ."

  "Oh sure, but where are those accounts? Where did all that money go?"

  To a Budapest Reborn mercenary company, and no doubt bribes to politicians. And it's all going to be seized by the government because of his treason. And that's why Axel split the trust in such a hurry. He's hoping the government won't go after the sons’ money. I'd have left them hanging in the wind, myself. Maybe.

  What a mess, and if I have to arrest Axel for murdering him . . . They'll probably give him a medal.

  He caught Axel's voice and veered over to the small dining room. Forty-one was leaning casually on the wall. Vlad stopped beside him.

  ". . . isn't forever. You can just tell your friends that you 'need a period of mourning' then you blame it on me being slow and stingy, and then talk about your plans to remodel once Andre and Nikoli are on the Historical Trust Board, and in control of their own Trusts . . ."

  Lady Anastaciya was drumming her fingers on the table.

  ". . . then you swap to talking about how inconvenient remodeling is going to be, perhaps it would be marginally less disruptive to not start until spring or early summer and so forth. And . . . you two have rooms full of dresses worn once or twice. Surely among all those servants you've got some seamstresses who can pick them apart and re-cut them in the newest fashions. Would anyone actually notice you used the same fabric as a dress you wore three years ago? Same with those fur coats in the refrigerated rooms.

  "Oh, and those servants you can't afford? Look them over and get me a list of the ones you don't want. Well, I'm sure there are bad grow-ins, and oldsters who can't do much any more. If there are any with value, I'll help you sell them anonymously. I'll take the rest and see if I can at least break even on the lot, and save you the upkeep. Oh, and the cost of chips, there's four or five servant kids hitting eighteen every year, but that's fairly minor."

  Lady Veronika and Lady Anastaciya swapped glances.

  "Let's go talk, just you and I." Lady Anastaciya rose and stalked toward the back stairs. Lady Veronika followed.

  Forty-one shook his head. "Makes me glad I can't marry."

  Lord Axel sighed. "Women aren't allowed to get an education, work, take the time to find a husband they can truly love. At eighteen they either marry someone who can afford the wife chip, or hope their father will spring for it. Because their only other choice is a servant chip that, by design, will lower their intelligence as well as block their talent." A shrug. "So I really can't blame them for being bitches. It's the only power they will ever have."

  Vlad scowled. "And sometimes they get engaged to someone who will take their dad's money for the wife chip, pocket it, and get the girl a cheap servant chip."

  Forty-one growled. "And live to brag about how clever he was to do it far enough ahead of the wedding that he could dump her when she had a bad grow-in. I had to sit on your Dad. Literally. Then it turned out he was a professional con artist who'd done this to other women, on other Worlds. Unfortunately, by then he was across and out of our reach."

  Vlad smiled wryly. "Yes. I remember. I was . . . sixteen? Good thing I never met the . . . person again, after that."

  Lord Axel stared into space for a moment, then blinked and brought his attention back to Vlad. "So . . . How is your investigation going? Have you decided to arrest me yet?"

  Vlad sat down and propped his elbows on the table. "Did you kill Lord Vladimir? Mind you, I'm saying killed, not murdered."

  Axel shook his head. "It was a complete surprise to me. And if you don't trust my morals, trust my brains. I'd have at least waited until I was firmly and publicly known to be fifty, if nothing else. To be honest? I was keeping my eyes open for murder attempts on me. I was hours away from being able to see the problems with the Historical Trust. And whatever he was up to, he was probably eyeing my money."

  "Humph. So . . . who else in this household has the ability to reach into someone's brain and damage a blood vessel badly enough that it killed him several days later?"

  "Really? Huh. I take it your coroner spotted something?" He leaned back in thought. Shook his head. "That I know of, I'm the only one. Andre and Nikoli don't have the training, nor the self control something like that requires. The four I'm training haven't been able to touch the power long enough to have developed the necessary power or control. Mr. Solovsky has a pretty good glow, but he wouldn't have had that sort of training. There aren't many servants from outside . . . I'm sure you've noticed the strong family resemblance in a lot of them."

  "Yes." I don't think I'll ask how many are his. At least I haven't noticed any redheads. But now I'm going to have to wonder about those four he's training. "How early were you trained?"

  "Oh, very. I was a weedy, young looking kid, but my mentalist powers showed up early, and . . . my parents and especially my maternal Grandfather, were believers in learning control through competence."

  "Do you actually know how to create an aneurysm?"

  His mouth quirked a bit. "I was recruited when I was in college, been working Up Top since I graduated. I've killed. And yes,
damaged blood vessels badly enough to cause aneurysms. But I don't do it for personal reasons, and I don't think anyone had a hint he was planning something."

  Vlad nodded.

  "Well . . . maybe I'll ask a few people up the hill . . . I need to ask a few unconnected questions about something else."

  Vlad snorted. "Not to mention what to do with a hundred servants?"

  That got him a shrug. "I'll just pick up a no-doubt hefty percent of the expenses while I firm up my currently very nebulous plans. I hope there are no more alarms soon, my ideas for private projects . . . that is to say, business opportunities, are growing out of control."

  Vlad eyed him. "Quite apart from the cliff house, I have a sneaking suspicion you have more money than a man so recently turned fifty ought to have."

  "Yes. If you read the actual details of that law, earned income is treated a bit differently than inherited wealth. It just can't accumulate excessively, outside of a class four individual investment account."

  "Which you can now access."

  "Yep. Now if I could just track down Dear Uncle's other accounts—the money from the Historical Trust whipped in and out of his known account very quickly. Other people are tracking down where it went and if we're looking at shell companies of Dear Uncle's or fronts for some business deals of dubious legality, assuming . . . Lots of stuff I can't talk about. What we really need to find is any property he owns, where he might have placed another . . . thing."

  Forty-one eyed them.

  Vlad shook his head. "I might as well pack it in until you lot work out the . . . entanglements. Then I can move back in and try to find the killer so the Government can thank him."

  Axel laughed at that. "Oh, pity the poor honest policeman who has to deal with a case like this. In the end, we'll probably find out that his . . . business partners . . . did it, as the easy way to get started, then get rid of the fool who thought he'd control it all."