"I believe your problem is related to my problem."
"Meaning the alleged Fuchi-Nagato war." Ito shrugs. "I wouldn"t say that"s much of a problem. The potential for damage to the Fuchi image is minimal. Some of our publicly traded ventures might take a hit at the exchange. In the long run it"s meaningless."
Machiko is a bit puzzled by this reaction. She finds it difficult to accept. For she knows how she would feel were she in Gordon Ito"s position, and that is not very different from how she feels being in her own position. "I wonder if this is how you truly feel, Ito-san."
"Feeling"s got nothing to do with it."
This Machiko can well believe. Here, in all likelihood, she faces a man who is never guided by emotion, only intellect, the checks and balances of a merchant"s records, the account sheets of an executive. What words would affect such a man? "Certain files I have read say that you rarely come down from Fuchi"s tall towers. You do not generally micromanage operations. This leads me to wonder, Ito-san, why you are standing here now. What could your motivation be to speak with me? Why did you agree to this meeting? Why did you answer the telecom?"
Ito takes a drag on his cigarette. His features reveal nothing of his thoughts. "I"m here to collect Scudder."
"You trusted no one else for this task?"
"I"m also evaluating a potential new source of intelligence. You."
"Is there anything about me you do not already know? which you have not already previously evaluated?"
Ito seems to consider that, then says, "I know you"re an expert in the serpent-style of aikido developed by your sensei Kuroda. I know you can hit moving targets with shuriken at twenty meters five times out of five. You"re qualified with just about every man-portable weapon in the inventory. You"re a phys-adept. You see heat. You"re very quick. You can probably see the astral, but you use it selectively because the ability makes you vulnerable. You entered the GSG academy at age fourteen. You started training in kendo at age five. You had a pet snake as a kid and you wear a size six shoe, six-narrow. You honor your adoptive parents and you"re fanatically loyal to Nagato"s Chairman." Ito paused to take a drag on his cigarette. "Yeah, I"ve got all the basics. What I don"t know is how far I can trust you."
"Then I will tell you," Machiko says. "You can trust me to consider all that I do with regard to the wishes of Chairman Honjowara Akido, and the interests of Nagato Combine."
"Nothing"s ever that simple."
"It is duty," Machiko says. "Duty may be easy or hard, as easily fulfilled as a child"s game, or a true challenge to loyalty and honor. But it is almost always very simple. If the search for my enemy and yours were this simple, the danger would already be past."
Ito seems to consider that, but then says, "How deep did you go interrogating Scudder?"
"Deeply enough to confirm that his words are accurate." Briefly, Ito nods. He does not appear surprised. "I"ve got real problems with people who don"t make good on their agreements. You said you"d bring Scudder and you performed. That"s the kind of currency I trade in. It"s worth a gesture of my goodwill."
The last word is almost alarming, coming from a man like Gordon Ito. But Machiko maintains a settled spirit. She asks, "What form of goodwill, Ito-san?"
"Information." Ito takes a drag his cigarette. "I"ve been tracking attempts at penetrating Fuchi subsidiary mainframes. That"s brought out some interesting discoveries. You may not be familiar with the financial details, so I"ll tell you that your Nagato Corporation is mortgaged to the fragging hilt. And somebody"s buying your debt. They"ve swallowed a few of your most major creditors whole. A few more big buys and they"ll own you."
Machiko wonders if this is even feasible. She knows little of finance and corporate law, but the one thing she does know is that the leaders of the three clans own the entire body of Nagato Corp stock. So what Gordon Ito says cannot be true in precisely the way that he says it. "Nagato Corp stock is not publicly traded."
"Own your debt, I own you," Ito says. "I call in your loans. You can"t pay everything at once. So I make you a deal. Sell me blocks of stock to satisfy the debt or sell me certain selected a.s.sets. Either way, I take the best parts of Nagato in hand."
"You mean that an attempt is being made to take over Nagato Corp?"
"I"ve been watching funds transfer in and out of Zurich. You don"t move the kind of coin that"s being moved just to make a couple of nuyen factoring people"s debt. Someone"s staging to carve you up. That"s what this so-called corp war is about. Making Nagato look two steps short of the grave. By this time tomorrow your creditors will be selling your debt at a discount, just to get out. Then the process s...o...b..a.l.l.s. You don"t have much time."
The prospect, the theory, is more than a little unsettling. Even if only half of what Ito says is true, disaster looms. Machiko wants so much to face an enemy she may defeat with sword and fist she could scream with outrage. She had never known anything so frustrating as this elusive enemy who attacks from the north and from the south, down from the mountains and up from the sea. How can she fight such an enemy?
She struggles to keep calm, to breathe. She says, "Ito-san, you began by saying that you have been tracking attempts at penetrating Fuchi computers. How did this lead to discoveries about Nagato debt and transfers of funds to and from Zurich?"
Ito takes a drag on his cigarette, and says, "Do you know who designed the operating systems for the local telecommunications grid?"
In fact, Machiko has no idea. But, based on what Ito is saying, his manner in saying it, the answer seems apparent.
Ito says, "There"s quirks in the software that the freaks decking out of Vaux Hall and Shadowland never hear about. There"s layers of code that Telco security doesn"t know exists. How did I make my discoveries? I put a genii into the grid. We"ll leave it at that. Except for one other thing.
"The orders to the Zurich banks buying your debt are coming out of the Nagato private grid, the system access node a.s.signed to your Chairman"s estate. So tell me again how simple a thing duty is.
"You"ve got a loyalty problem."
Ito blows one final stream of cigarette smoke toward the blackened concrete floor, then turns and walks back to the Nissan sedans awaiting him.
Machiko breathes a slow, deep breath.
34.
The ride to Downtown is short-up Bowery Street to Park and Twenty-ninth and Nagato Tower-but it seems to last hours.
A loyalty problem, Ito said. A strategy to make Nagato Combine appear to be on the verge of destruction so that banks and other creditors will sell Nagato debt cheaply, all into a single pair of hands, hands striving to seize control. That"s what it"s all about, Ito said. But is he right? And if he is right, who orchestrates the offensive? Is this truly the work of Gamma and the White Octagon? Or is there another greater enemy, perhaps an enemy with knowledge of business, and thus the vision to conceive of such a campaign?
That the orders to the Zurich banks should be routed through the access node for Honjowara-sama"s estate seems almost a joke. Honjowara-sama is no traitor. Of this, Machiko has no doubt. The man would not betray Nagato Combine for the simple reason that he would be dishonored, and without honor he would be nothing, a ruined man. He would rather die, he would welcome it with open arms. By strength of character and force of principle he has all but single-handedly guided Nagato Combine back to the honorable path of their ancient ancestors. For Honjowara-sama to turn from this now would be impossible, a betrayal not merely of Nagato Combine, but of everything he believes, his values, his whole life.
If the node for his estate has been used by traitors, that is mere coincidence, or perhaps an attempt to deflect suspicion, or possibly to cast doubt where no doubt should ever arise and so cast Nagato Combine into confusion.
Confusion to the enemy. An ancient martial strategy. Machiko must see it defeated.
When her car arrives in the parking complex beneath Nagato Tower, she waits for the SDF troopers to get out, then uses the sedan"s telecom to contact Colonel Satomi. "Do you have any reason to doubt the loyalty of any Nagato Corp personnel with expertise in computers?"
"None at all," Satomi-san replies. But then he frowns and adds, "We of course conduct periodic reviews of all corporate personnel. Have you some new data that I should be aware of?"
Machiko relates what Gordon Ito has said.
Satomi-san replies, "I will make inquiries with my people. Possibly there are some borderline individuals who should be investigated."
The time is just past one a.m. when Maeda Komachi steps briskly into her walnut-paneled office on the fifteenth floor of Nagato Tower. She comes abruptly to a halt, eyes widening. Machiko sits in the tall synthleather chair located behind Maeda-san"s desk. Maeda-san stares at her as if astonished. Machiko understands. It is unlikely that Maeda-san has ever seen a member of the Guard sit behind anyone"s desk, much less her own.
A small soft sound of startlement or dismay slips from her lips. She hesitates. She bows more deeply than is necessary to show proper respect, and says, in a voice that briefly wavers, "Machiko-san . . . I. . . I. . . that is . . ."
An awkward moment, intended to be so. Machiko has seen this woman many times before, at various meetings, but does not know her very well at all, does not know what to expect of her, or whether she is as loyal as Machiko might ordinarily suppose. Were Maeda-san in fact a traitor, she would have unparalleled opportunities to utilize the Nagato private computer grid. She is in fact in charge of that grid, Director of Network Administration.
"Please excuse me if I seem rude or presumptuous," Machiko says. "I have had little rest since before dawn. This chair seemed available."
Maeda-san slowly rises from her bow, looking very anxious and uncertain. "P-please," she says. "My office is yours. I am merely, merely confused .. . your telecom call..."
"I have been authorized by Honjowara-sama to make certain inquiries," Machiko says.
Maeda-san"s expression turns to fear. She swallows. "Have I committed some offense? Is that why . . . why you are here?"
To Machiko, it does not now seem very likely that Maeda-san has committed any crimes, small or large. She does not speak clever words. She responds as would a loyal executive of Nagato Corp, who is also a woman of delicate stature and apparently of a sensitive nature-with surprise and fear and perhaps now even a touch of horror. She shows these things openly, like one genuinely afflicted by emotion, like one who has nothing to hide.
"In the Chairman"s name," Machiko says, "I must request your a.s.sistance."
"I will do anything, of course," says Maeda-san, abruptly bowing.
"There is possibly a traitor in Nagato Corp," Machiko explains. "This traitor, if extant, may be using the system access node of the Chairman"s estate to send certain messages to Zurich banks. These messages may include instructions directing the banks to purchase Nagato debt. How may we determine if this is so?"
Maeda-san seems troubled by all of this. "It would be a tremendous task, Machiko-san," she says. "Perhaps impossible. Computer activity is routinely monitored and the records compressed and archived. We might find some indication of these messages you speak of within the archives, but these archives contain immense quant.i.ties of data. And certain records are kept for only a short period. If these messages are very old, the records may no longer exist."
Machiko considers, and says, "If the messages have been sent at all, they are most likely very recent. Perhaps only days old."
Maeda-san nods. "Then the relevant records should exist."
"Then they must be examined."
"I will summon a team of a.n.a.lysts at once. My most capable people." Maeda-san moves to the side of her desk and swivels the telecom to face her. "We have little direct traffic with Zurich. That should aid in our search."
Machiko says, "I do not know if the messages went directly to Zurich."
"We will do whatever we must to find what you want." Machiko opens her mouth to praise this display of dedication and loyalty, but the woman is already speaking to the telecom. She makes several calls. Each time, she says, "I must ask you to come in at once to a.s.sist with a matter of vital importance to the Chairman."
It is not long before Maeda-san"s experts have a.s.sembled in her office. They are an eclectic group of both metas and norms and both genders, some in suits, others dressed like vagabonds. Machiko tells them what little she knows. Maeda-san then gives her own instructions, using language of such a technical nature that Machiko grasps very little of what is said.
Semi-autonomous knowbots?
Did she even hear this correctly?
Maeda-san concludes, "Advise me the moment you find anything you believe may be significant. I will be here until we reach some result."
The experts bow and file out.
Machiko considers what she might do while the experts work at their computers. "It may be some time until we do obtain some results," says Maeda-san. "At least several hours. Perhaps not until morning."
"Is there no way to hasten the process?"
"Even with unlimited resources, it would still take time, Machiko-san. We have many terapulses of datastores to search, and only a few clues to guide us."
Machiko grows conscious of the fatigue in her shoulder and the gnawing in her stomach. "You may contact me via the command center," she tells Maeda-san. "I will be in the building."
"I will call the moment we find anything."
Machiko rides the elevator to the ninth-floor dining room. The hour is late, but Nagato Tower operates twenty-four hours and that includes the dining room. Machiko eats a brief "supper" and then rides to the suite reserved for GSG and lies down to rest. But her spirit will not cooperate. So much has happened in so little time. She has visited the heights of the corporate overworld and the lowest depths of the street. Four nights ago she rose from sleep to meet the onslaught of an a.s.sa.s.sin. Everything since then swirls through her mind like a vision of kaleidoscopic confusion, evolving into utter chaos.
She turns to a telecom, but the Urban Blitz Nightly News immediately reports, ". . . at least fifty-seven people tragically lost their lives earlier tonight as the result of a terrorist-style attack at the Chrysanthemum Palace Hotel in Coney Island, Brooklyn . . ."
She checks in with Ryokai via commlink, then rides down to ground level and steps outside.
The night is cool, Park Avenue South is busy with traffic. Machiko walks. Few people move along the broad sidewalks at this hour, for although the district is well-patrolled by NYPD Inc. and others, and no part of Manhattan ever truly seems to sleep, the district is not without problems. Those few who are out and about stay in groups and move briskly. They keep to the brilliant lights of the avenues, shunning the darker confines of cross-streets.
The wisdom in this becomes apparent as Machiko reaches Thirty-sixth Street. Before the renaissance stonework of the Pierpont Morgan Library rages a brawl attended by at least ten or twelve uniformed police. The strobing turret lights of their patrol wagons and sedans glance off the mirrored windows of high-rises and the chrome-faces of skysc.r.a.pers, illuminating the night like incandescent blue fire. Who they fight does not become clear until Machiko draws near.
Something has climbed from its grease pit to spread its stain along Thirty-sixth Street.
He wears tight synthleather slacks and tall boots, and both bear the lime and azure slashes of the Ancients. Above the waist he is nude, displaying the wall of thorns tattooed onto his gleaming, sweat-soaked flesh. The datajack set into his shaven skull and the wild maniacal gaze of one riding a persona-chip psychosis high tell all that need be told, in so far as Machiko is concerned. That and his aura, rippling with violence, a repugnant living presence clearly visible on the astral.
Three police lie sprawled on the sidewalk. Five others are down, injured but not yet disabled, looking to Machiko as she pauses just three meters from the center of the conflict.
"Now a serpent," says the Ancients ganger, grinning at her. "What fun."
As he says these last words, he attacks. Like a sudden barrage of bullets, quick and full of devastating power, punching, kicking, smashing. One blow smashes the window of a police sedan, another seems almost to explode, driving a path through the air. Machiko evades each point of impact, turning, bending, side-stepping. Her hands and arms, like coiling serpents, mislead and deflect the blows that follow up. And always there is another blow, another strike, snapping, flashing toward her.
They remain engaged for several minutes. The ganger fills the air with a heat signature that blazes with heat. He grunts and growls like a ferocious animal. And then he sends a fist at her face that misses by a significant margin, and, for one moment, tips him slightly off-balance.
Machiko clasps his forearms and urges him further off-balance. Like a man falling feet-first onto a steeply pitched incline, the ganger runs staggering into the armored flank of a patrol wagon.
He stumbles back, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, and then crumbles.
Five NYPD officers seize him, put him in cuffs.
Onlookers hoot and applaud. One panting officer haltingly expresses grat.i.tude. Machiko bows and continues down the block to Madison, then south toward Twenty-ninth and Nagato Tower. A satisfying exercise, an exercise her spirit yearned for, an affirmation of the Chairman"s New Way. To some small degree, it will likely aid relations between Nagato Combine and NYPD, Inc. Yet, Machiko rebukes herself. She is a fool for wasting time. For walking the streets when her enemy awaits her, somewhere, perhaps somewhere very near, within the very ranks of Nagato Combine.
It is difficult to imagine such a despicable traitor existing. Few real traitors have ever come to light. People are not always perfectly satisfied with their positions in Nagato Combine, but generally, in Machiko"s experience, differences can be worked out.
It is nearly dawn when Machiko wakes, slumped on a sofa in the GSG suite of Nagato Tower. Her left vambrace vibrates, her commlink beeps.
"We have made a disturbing discovery," says Maeda Komachi.
Machiko takes the elevator down. She finds Maeda-san amid the gray-paneled cubicles belonging to the programmers and a.n.a.lysts of Network Administration. Maeda-san gives quick instructions to an eccentric-looking group of ten, then turns to Machiko as the ten hasten to various cubies.
"It appears we have a phantom host," Maeda-san explains. "I am in the process of summoning my entire department to deal with this, Machiko-san."
Machiko asks, "How is this related to my inquiry?"
"It must be related."
"Please explain."
"Well, whether it is evidence of treason is not for me to say, but it is certainly indicative of illicit and illegitimate use of network resources."
"What is this "phantom host?" "
Maeda-san frowns, and says, "In a sense, it is a virtual computer. A simulation. To discourage illegal intrusions, many computer systems have installed software systems that put up a false front or a mask that simulate all the functions of the native host, or actual computer operating systems. Like the native host, the simulation has access nodes and datastores, but nothing done to the simulation can affect the native host. And usually all the data in the stores of the simulation are watered down or filtered in certain critical respects so as to be of no use to illegal intruders."
"And such a simulation has been found in the node for the Chairman"s estate?"
Maeda-san hesitates, glancing at Machiko, then bows and says, "Excuse me, Machiko-san. I would say yes, but there is no single "node" for the Chairman"s estate. Network resources at that site include such things as the Chairman"s personal mininet, terminal nodes for the Senior Executive Information System, access nodes into the local telecommunications grid and various portions of the Nagato private grid. This phantom we have found is running on the Chairman"s personal mininet, and at this early stage I can only guess at what it is intended to do."
"How could this phantom have been installed without your knowledge?"