The voice stayed flat. Thus far, the mentality engaged was little more than a high-capacity automation. “The DNA pattern belongs to—“ Venator’s identification followed.
No! With an almost physical thrust, he denied the denial. “Location,” he demanded.
“Prajnaloka, a community in south central North America.” A screen lit, displaying a regional map. An arrow pointed. It was redundant. He knew that place, although he had never visited in person.
The intruder or intruders could not belong there, he thought. Soulquesters were the last people in the universe who’d challenge the system in any way. Besides, how would one of them have gotten the genetic key?
Lilisaire’s agents, then. Fiendishly clever. Skilled, at least. They would never have come near the file unless their search strategy was so well-designed, with questions so natural and cogent, that it took them past every point at which the program might have detected a possible spy and blocked the line of investigation. Yes, this matched the picture he’d formed. Kenmuir, for spatial background; someone else, for a wide and deep knowledge of the information net, together with much past experience.
They felt their way to the portals of the secret, and—
“Has the nearest Peace Authority station been contacted?” Venator asked. He stepped to a peg and took a robe off it. The floor was cold and hard beneath his feet.
“Yes.” He shouldn’t have wasted time inquiring, he should have taken it for granted.
“Get me the captain of the emergency division. Crash priority.” Venator slipped the robe over his nakedness. He needed to impress the man. Inwardly, he needed to cover himself, hiding from rage and shame. It was clear to him, now, where that DNA had come from.
A face appeared in the screen. “James Fong, captain of emergency services, Peace Authority, Chicago Integrate,” the voice said in Anglo. Two names; old-fashioned; it suggested solid reliability.“Pragmatic Venator, intelligence corps.” Aside: “Verify.” The system signalled that this was true. “We have a crisis. I am a synnoiont. Verify. It’s that serious, Captain.”
Fong sucked breath in between his teeth. “Yes, senor.”
“Two persons—I believe they are two—are making an illicit break into a top secret, from Prajnaloka’. The consequences could be disastrous. Fly a squad to capture them before they finish the job and escape. Take them back and hold them in solitary, pending further orders. Do not question them or permit them to talk with anyone, including you and your officers. With the personnel of the ashram, be courteous but discreet. Tell them they have been deceived by enemies of sanity, get them to describe those persons’ actions, and ask them to keep quiet about the whole affair.”
“Yes, senor. We can’t suppress everything. People will see us. Rumors will fly.”
“That ought not to matter if the operation is quick and thorough. Report directly to me by name.” The cybercosm would route the call. “Begin.”
“At once, senor. I’ll lead the raid myself. Service!” The screen blanked.
Good. Fong was trustworthy. That was reassuring. It was even promising. A tingle went through Venator. Within this hour, the quarry should be his. Thereafter—
He put his feet into sandals and went out, down the corridors of shifting light-shapes and silent machines. His task required much better equipment than a phone and a terminal. He might well have to consult with the whole cybercosm.
Certainly he must soon do so. The issues were of the gravest. Fong and his followers would realize that. Arrest and temporary isolation were permissible under the Covenant, barely, by invoking the Emergency Provisions Clause. But they’d wonder why Venator wanted the prisoners straightaway whisked off. Why no news, later, about the charges against them? Were their rights being violated? Answers must be devised’ more or less satisfactory.
His heart demanded it too, Venator thought. He’d try persuasion first, of course, but if Lilisaire’s agents were stubborn and insisted on public proceedings, what then?
He didn’t know. Whatever was necessary, he supposed. It would depend on their behavior, and how much they had learned, and on Lilisaire’s next move, if any, and—more unknowns than he could list, no doubt. Chaos.
At worst, he guessed, the cybercosm would tell him to have their recent memories wiped. He bit his lip. That would be nearly as gross a violation as killing them, and it risked terrible side effects. And after they were released, how was their amnesia going to be explained?