Chapter Two
“Welcome back!” Brock Mann poked his head into Carter’s office. “How was R&R at the Darius 4 Pleasure Resort?”
Carter waved him in. “Great, but too short. I wish I was back there right now.”
“Problem?”
He grimaced. “I just got off a vid conference with Benson Vincere.”
Brock sank into the sensa-chair fronting the desk. “What’s he done now?”
Carter sighed and relaxed into his own chair, letting it massage his back and work out the kinks. It wasn’t as good as having a Darius 4 pleasure android minister to him, but it would be a long time before he could break free for another vacation. “It’s what the secretary general won’t do. He refuses to accept the security plan for the Summit. He says such ‘restrictive’ measures will offend member planets by implying they’re not trustworthy.”
“Even if they don’t participate in acts of terror themselves, if they have any ties to Lamis-Odg, they’re not trustworthy. Lamani can and will manipulate them. What did Vincere agree to?”
“Level three. I forced the issue by telling him I would contact every planetary leader and urge them to avoid the Summit for security reasons if he didn’t agree. I also said Mikala would contact them as well.” The newly reelected president of Terra United, Mikala Aaron—who happened to be Brock’s mother-in-law—recognized the importance of security, unlike the well-intentioned, naïve secretary general of the Association of Planets. The AOP’s idealism frequently conflicted with Cyber Operations’ mission to protect the galaxy.
“Level three isn’t good enough,” Brock said.
“No, it’s not. Counting the ambassadors, nonvoting leaders and envoys, aides, and other support staff, two to three thousand people will attend the Summit. An assassin or a suicide bomber could easily blend with the crowd. Aym-Sec will bill the AOP for level three, but Cy-Ops will provide level five,” Carter said. “I’m putting you in charge of the background checks. Be discreet—don’t leave any tracers—but examine every vulnerability of every attendee. If they said hello to a stranger at a spaceport whose third cousin met a Malodonian who once visited Lamis-Odg, I want to know it.”
“I’ll assign Illumina to the project,” Brock said.
“Perfect.”
Nature had granted the Faria people special gifts. Some were empaths, a few were psychic, others had enhanced linguistic ability, some were mathematical savants. A computer sensate, Illumina could become one with virtual reality, giving her computer capabilities beyond those of a cyborg.
“She may have saved our butts yesterday,” Brock said.
“How so?”
“You know the open logistics position?”
“Yeah?”
“I had a strong prospect scheduled for an interview this morning,” Brock said. “I personally vetted her and did the prelim vid-con. Her credentials appeared impeccable.”
Carter leaned back in his chair. “I take it she didn’t pass?” Although the security firm’s purpose was to provide a cover for top secret Cyber Operations, on occasion Aym-Sec did deal with sensitive information, so its employees had to be carefully investigated. The logistics coordinator required extra care. Once he or she passed probation, the individual would serve both Aym-Sec and Cy-Ops.
Brock shook his head. “If all had gone well at the interview, I would have hired her. Thankfully, I had Illumina double-check the credentials. She discovered they were faked. Whoever forged them did a heck of a job, backdating her work and education so they appeared like an actual history. Illumina integrated into databases and discovered the codes had been altered. I never would have caught it. Beth O’Shea looked legit.”
Carter sprang forward. “Beth O’Shea?”
“You’ve heard of her?”
“Is she related to Elizabeth Ann O’Shea?”
“That’s her name. Beth is a shortened version of Elizabeth.”
What had seemed merely odd, now became fishy. “If you were a parent, would you give your twins identical names?”
Brock’s mouth took on a wry twist. “Well, I wouldn’t, but people have done far stupider things in naming their kids.”
What were the odds the sister of a woman he’d once dated would seek employment at his firm? Or that he’d run into her at the spaceport? Was Beth Liza’s twin? Or was she Liza? He drummed his fingers on the console. The coincidences were adding up to trouble. “In my Terran Technical Institute days, I dated an Elizabeth Ann O’Shea who went by Liza. I haven’t seen her since she dropped out of the university fifteen years ago. Then, yesterday, I met her twin sister, aka Beth, at the spaceport. According to the sister, Liza died on a galactic safari. I don’t suppose you ran across a death record for Liza in your investigation?”
“No. I had no idea a twin existed. All records reported Elizabeth is the only child of Reuben and Georgetta O’Shea.”
Just as he’d thought. The college girl he’d known had been a law-abiding person, but anything could have happened in fifteen years. Who might she have encountered on the star safari? She could have been recruited by some subversive cell. They already knew Beth had gone so far as to plant false records.
The “chance” encounter at the spaceport seemed suspicious now. While he’d approached her, probably she had finessed the meeting, putting herself in front of him so he’d recognize her. If he hadn’t been so quick to call out, maybe she would have initiated the contact.
It chilled him at how close they’d had come to being infiltrated. Aym-Sec’s official public security assignments weren’t as critical as Cyber Operations missions, but they were still sensitive, and a logistics coordinator would eventually be apprised of the connection between Aym-Sec and Cy-Ops. If that person turned out to be a spy, the results could be disastrous to the safety of civilian and cyborg agents and the galaxy they sought to protect.
“What can you tell me about Reuben and Georgetta?” he asked.
“Two of the wealthiest people in the galaxy. They have more money than the emperor of Xenia. Their residential satellite orbiting Terra is only one of their homes. They own a couple of private planets, a half-dozen moons, and have investments in Darius 4.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary?”
“One would assume with wealthy, famous parents, Beth’s bio would include a greater mention of Georgetta and Reuben, but the opposite is true. In databases where parents’ names were optional, they were omitted, and when required, only the bare minimum of information was provided.”
“The connection was downplayed.” Carter frowned. Liza hadn’t boasted about her pedigree, but she hadn’t hidden it, either. Like many young adults, she’d complained about “controlling” parents, but it had been obvious she’d loved them. They had been close and had spoken often via vid-con.
“In one of our initial conversations, I had asked Beth about it, and she said that she meant to succeed on her own merits and not through nepotism. It sounded plausible. And, before you ask—I followed standard operating procedure by interviewing close associates and family. Georgetta verified Beth’s explanation of desiring to be independent.”
Liza had talked of making her mark on the galaxy without assistance from her wealthy parents. She’d sounded convincing until she dumped him to accept the invitation to go off on an all-expense-paid star safari. What had happened between then and now? Why would Liza fake her death and assume a new identity as a twin? “No mention of a sister, though?”
“None.”
“When Illumina discovered the falsified credentials, I assume you canceled the interview?”
Brock nodded. “I messaged her PerComm this morning.”