That was enough to startle Cora out of her anger. She dropped the barrier and stared at Eppo Wen.
“I haven’t paid you, yet.”
“Consider it a good-faith gift,” Wen said, gesturing expansively. “Though if you’d rather think of it as a ‘please don’t kill me’ bribe, that works, too.”
Cora let out an awkward half-chuckle. “Oh. Well, uh… sorry. It’s been a rough week.”
“I can imagine.” Wen relaxed visibly. “Allow me to explain further. The information you requested about Menoris was easy to obtain. You could’ve picked it up yourself by simply asking the right people around town; everyone sells information, here. I offer it to you free because I hope to buy something else from you.”
Did Wen want the AI tech for herself? “And we were getting along so well, Eppo Wen.”
“Hear me out. I know that Thessia-clan Menoris is here to sell an AI component, because she’s holding a private auction for it in two days. But what intrigues me is that the Thessia-clan has such a component to sell. That she knew it existed at all, given that the Initiative has actually done a good job of keeping the news quiet before now. Which made me curious… and there’s really nothing so dangerous as making an information broker curious.” Cora thought that Wen smiled. “A little digging led me to discover another free piece of information I’ll share now: The person who told the HOME Group about the AI tech so that it could be stolen from the Andromeda Initiative, and the person who hired Thessia-clan Menoris to steal it from you once you got it back… are one and the same.”
Cora stared. “That doesn’t make sense. This person wanted the tech stolen from Home Away… after helping them get it in the first place?”
“It makes sense,” said Wen, “if you consider that the motive might not be acquisition.”
“What?”
Wen laid her palms flat on the table before her; this was the volus version of steepled fingers. “This is conjecture, but I believe whoever did this doesn’t want Alec Ryder’s AI technology to remain solely in Alec Ryder’s hands. The initial theft left too many tracks, which Ryder and his people only managed to scrub with great difficulty. The thieves wanted someone to notice. Ryder doesn’t, because he knows that will lead to too many dangerous questions.
“Then the HOME Group tried to keep it for themselves,” she continued, “and now their plans have been disrupted. This auction, however, threatens to spread the technology throughout the galaxy. I believe that is what this person wants—not acquisition, but dissemination.” Wen let out a mechanically measured sigh. “Except for one very curious piece of information, Earth-clan, which I will again share with you for free: All of the Thessia-clan’s buyers are human.”
“That makes no sense. She’d get a better price with an open auction—”
“I doubt Menoris is aware. Her information broker hasn’t vetted the backgrounds of the buyers beyond verifying their ability to pay.” Wen sniffed a little, clearly conveying her opinion of Octavia Suran’s competence. “It’s four shell-accounts deep in a few cases, but even the non-humans coming in for the auction are being paid by various human individuals or human-dominated agencies.” Wen touched a panel, and a holo-display appeared between her and Cora, listing information in two languages so they both could read it. “Three synthetics corporations. Two non-Alliance Earth nations. A research project that I’m pretty sure is a Cerberus operation, but they have good information brokers; the tracks are covered too well to trace for certain. The Blue Suns—they’re run by a human, you know, that batarian fellow is just a figurehead. One organized crime syndicate based on Earth that’s trying to branch out from red sand.”
Cora shuddered. So many unscrupulous people willing to risk the human race. “And what does this mean?”
Wen wiped the display and replaced it with a simple tactical ops chart. At its center was a headshot of Ygara Menoris, tied by directional lines to images of the Andromeda Initiative logo and a blank square over which a question mark had been superimposed.
“I believe what we’re seeing is a double-double-cross, as your clan terms it,” she explained. “Our unknown agent arranged the original theft of the AI code package from the Andromeda Initiative. You retrieved it. Ygara Menoris was hired by the same agent to get the tech from you and bring it somewhere specific. This was a feint to make Menoris less suspicious, however, because she was also given information that led her to believe she might get more money by spurning her employer and selling the tech at auction. To put it bluntly, her employer expected to be betrayed. Menoris’ personality profile made it likely.”
Cora shook her head in amazement, and in lingering guilt over the fact that this mysterious employer had seen so easily what Cora hadn’t.
“The unknown then seeded the auction buyers with Earth-clan,” Wen said. “So no matter who Menoris sells it to, the AI code package ends up out of Initiative control and disseminated to multiple, and human, hands.”
“Okay,” Cora said. Her head was starting to hurt. “So this is a bigger mess than I thought it was. Thanks for the information. Now tell me what you want for it.” She scowled. “If the AI tech is what you want, that’s a non-starter.”
Eppo Wen hissed out a laugh. “My dear Earth-clan, the information business is good if you can survive it, and that means knowing which lines not to cross. AI is one of those. I have no interest in waking up to find a Council Spectre in my very expensive bedroom. But speaking of that…” Abruptly her hands, resting on the desk, tightened into small plump fists. “What I want, my dear, and what I am effectively paying you for, is Ygara Menoris. Dead.”
Cora stared, then started to grin. “Oh, my God. She screwed you over, too.”
“Alas, yes.” Eppo Wen lowered her face-pouches with an air of self-deprecation. “She purchased information on several potential competitors among the newer, smaller mercenary outfits. I provided it, the money changed virtual hands, everything seemed settled. Then three of Menoris’ asari thugs tried to blast their way through the wall of my house.” Wen nodded toward the airlock. Cora inhaled in horrified understanding. And the thugs in question had probably been Tella, Bannyn, and Leri. “There are two ways to die that I hope never to experience: by explosive decompression, and ‘in the altogether,’ as your clan so quaintly puts it. If the walls of my home were not reinforced with Silaris armor, I might have suffered both at the same time.”
Cora shook her head in wonder, then let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Let me guess. She’d given you a fake bank account, and wanted you dead before you discovered it?”
“Yes. Excellent work, too; passed my own vetting, which I can assure you is quite thorough. That turian of hers is too sloppy to have done it. She has some powerful friends, that Thessia-clan.” Wen sounded ruefully impressed. “I’d been searching for the right assassin to send after her—with sufficient layering of identities to protect my involvement, of course. Killing former customers can be bad for business, even if they are backstabbing vermin. But here you are, with no ties to me, and willing to hunt her down for the small price of a few relatively unimportant secrets.”
Cora frowned. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do it yourself? I’d be happy to drop her off after I’m done with her.”
“No. You will kill her yourself. And if you really want to make my day, Earth-clan, send me a snapshot of the body. I’d like to have it fabricated in an ornate frame… for my bedroom wall.” For the first time, Cora sensed how dangerous Wen really was.
And the day had started out with such promise.
* * *
The auction, according to Eppo Wen’s file, was scheduled for two Illium days later. Ygara had taken a suite in the Bulwark, a hotel near Nos Astra Central that was frequented by the mercenary set. This was because it had no windows, lots of choke points, blast resistant doors, and virtual or mech staff only.
Beyond that, however, Ygara hadn’t taken particular care with her security; after all, she thought Cora was dead. She had
her own crew, and maybe she hoped that her powerful friends would keep her safe from angry information brokers.
Cora simply rented a room at the same hotel, using a false identity that Eppo Wen had also given her free of charge. It wouldn’t endure much close scrutiny, the volus had warned, but Cora didn’t intend for it to have to—not for long, anyway. By not-at-all-chance and since Wen had given her the necessary room number, she requested the room directly above Ygara’s suite. Fortunately it was available. When Cora followed his instructions to set up a soft link to Illium’s public building permit database, SAM-E quickly found and downloaded the hotel’s construction specs.
The Bulwark’s rooms might have blast doors and bulkhead walls, but the floors and ceilings were ordinary fabricated materials. According to Wen, that was why the better-informed mercs never went near the place. The Bulwark was mostly frequented by new mercs with new money and not a lot of friends in the business.
The most dangerous moment actually came when Cora arrived at the hotel in a cab—and promptly had to scooch down in the back seat as Bannyn T’Dahn, Leri T’Eln, and Tella Namir exited the hotel’s lobby. The three asari were laughing, dressed up for a night on the town—Bannyn and Leri in expensive-looking gowns and Tella in her bodysuit but without the attached armor. Ygara must have given them the night off, and like any ship crew in port, they were away in search of drink, sex, and maybe a good bar fight.
Shameful lack of discipline on Ygara’s part, Cora thought once they were gone and she’d transferred funds to pay the cab. She put on her helmet—a matching one this time, acquired at one of Nos Astra’s endless shops—to avoid the possibility of another familiar encounter as she passed through the lobby and corridors. At a hotel full of paranoid mercs, this didn’t even rate a second glance. Nisira had never allowed her commandos time off during an ongoing operation, because good soldiers were supposed to be keyed-up under dangerous circumstances. Ygara hadn’t sold the stolen tech yet; the mission wasn’t over. Cora was happy to take advantage of her overconfidence.
She went up to her room, and discovered a new problem to deal with.
“What do you plan to do?” SAM-E asked as Cora settled in—which mostly consisted of scanning the floor for the best place to get through it, then marking that out with little holo-tags via her omni-tool. “An omni-blade could get through the floor with relative ease, but she would see you cutting it several seconds before you breached the hole.”
Cora rubbed her eyes and focused on the problem of the hotel room floor. “I’m not going to cut through with an omni-blade,” she said. “SAM-E, if I call housekeeping and ask for extra pillows, can you get into the hotel’s system and make it look like the request is coming from Ygara’s room?”
“Of course, provided that their system isn’t using corporate or military-grade encryption. I’m not really made for that, but—”
“Do it, then,” Cora said, tapping her omni-tool to call the Bulwark’s housekeeping office. The AI sounded confused, though he complied; Cora saw Ygara’s face and name appear on the “caller” ID.
“Yes, Ms. Menoris,” said a mech on the other end. “Fresh down pillows should arrive in precisely one minute and fifty seconds.”
Cora grinned as she closed the omni-tool link and set the timer. “That ought to do it.”
SAM-E still sounded mystified. “I assume this is a distraction of some sort?”
“Yep. Simple distractions are usually the most effective, my old boss always used to say. Now stay quiet for a moment.”
Cora got up, moved to stand beside the marked-out area, and took a deep breath. She channeled the biotics toward her fist. A single, focused Nova strike would make quick work of the floor. She slowed her breathing and waited for the timer.
“I see.” SAM-E sounded amused. “When housekeeping arrives, you start cleaning house?” Cora let out a breath of surprise—not quite a laugh. The stuttering may have stopped, but puns and a terrible sense of humor were new. Maybe worse.
No time to worry about it now. Her timer buzzed as a minute and fifty seconds passed; she tensed. Give it a few extra seconds for Ygara to answer the door and then…
“Lieutenant. Wait.”
Cora’s breath caught. “What is it?”
“I’ve retained my connection to the hotel’s housekeeping system. A mech carrying six pillows arrived at the room below approximately ten seconds ago. Ygara Menoris has not answered the door.” It paused and Cora frowned, her heart pounding. “Twenty seconds. May I amplify your auditory nerve for a moment? Your ears should be capable of detecting minute sounds in the room below, since the floor is of unshielded material.”
“May you what?” Shit. There was no time if she was going to do this. “Fine.”
All at once Cora could hear much, much more, as if the otherwise quiet hotel had become a noisy, echoing auditorium. In the distance she could hear a steady beat, and music—oh, the club across the street. Someone stomped heavily past the door of her room, headed down the corridor, and it sounded as loud as a krogan. Above her, maybe two floors up, a couple of turian guys were either having loud, flange-voiced sex, or rhythmically beating the crap out of each other while yelling for no discernible reason. There was a hollow, sharp rap nearby that made her jump, but then a mech voice said, “Housekeeping,” and she realized it was the room below.
There was no sound of movement in response.
Maybe Ygara was suspicious of the unexpected visit. The mech would work as a distraction if Ygara tried to shoot the thing through the door, but she wasn’t even doing that. There were no cameras in the rooms. Cora thought quickly.
“Can you—” She flinched at the “shout” of her own voice, then subvocalized. “Can you access environmental controls in her room? That’s got to be part of housekeeping too, right?”
“Ah, excellent idea. I—” A sudden, troubling pause. “Lieutenant, I believe something is very wrong.”
“Define ‘wrong.’”
“Environmental controls in the room have already been altered. The temperature has been reduced to approximately thirty degrees below preferred asari ambient—lower, in fact, than the controls are normally capable of going. The hotel does provide accommodations with a wider temperature range for hanar, drell, and krogan, but this room isn’t one of those.”
Cora was going to have to talk to Ryder about training SAM-E to get to the point faster. “So the room’s temperature controls are on the blink, and… what? Menoris isn’t in the room?”
“Reducing ambient temperature is a technique commonly employed by assassins, Lieutenant. It makes it difficult to correctly identify a time of death.”
“What?” Baring her teeth, Cora unleashed the singularity at the floor. All at once, her hearing returned to normal, so it was a good thing SAM-E had stopped doing whatever he’d been doing, or Cora might have blown out her own eardrums.
As dark energy chewed apart plaster and rebar, she activated her shields, sheathed herself in a barrier, and jumped through the resulting hole, landing on one hand and her toes and with pistol already raised to shoot.
Ygara Menoris lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, looking back at Cora with wide, staring, dead eyes.
“What the hell,” Cora breathed, straightening.
SAM-E haptic-signaled her omni-tool, reminding Cora to lift the device so she could scan the room. “It appears that Ms. Menoris let someone into her room, likely a person whom she was expecting,” SAM-E said, analyzing the data. Cora looked around, spying two tumblers on a side-table, each containing what looked like Serrice ice wine. “Judging by the amount of blood, I would guess Ms. Menoris’ companion attacked her from behind with an omni-blade.”
“Unbelievable.” Cora nudged the body over with her foot, then crouched to peer at the cut, maybe three inches wide, on the back of her neck. At least that solved one of the problems, but it still left her with more questions than answers. She crouched and put a hand on Ygara’s forearm. “Scan her omni-
tool, SAM-E. The AI code couldn’t have fit on it, but I bet the download key is there.”
“A moment, Lieutenant. I’ll need to use Ms. Menoris’ omni-tool to access the Audacity’s systems.” It paused.
“Hmm.”
Cora made yet another mental note to ask Alec Ryder what the hell he’d been thinking to make an AI that paused for dramatic effect.
“Yes?”
“The download key, which was pegged solely to Ygara Menoris’ omni-tool, has been expended. The AI code package has been copied, and deleted, from the Audacity’s storage system.”
No. No. “Are you kidding me? Someone got here before us, killed her, and stole the damn code? Again?”
“It appears so, Lieutenant. However, the person who initiated the download of the kernel was no hacker. The Audacity’s logs clearly registered the ship to which the code was transferred. It was a small unnamed shuttle.”
Cora turned at once and headed out of Ygara’s apartment, moving at a brisk walk since a run would draw too much attention. The housekeeping mech had given up long ago.
“How close is that shuttle to taking off?”
There was a pause. SAM-E could only access systems to which Cora had established a channel, and she had no way of getting him into Illium dock records. But after a moment he said, “The Audacity’s sensors are still active. The shuttle has already left port, Lieutenant…”
“Shit!”
“However, if you speak with Illium dock personnel, you might persuade them to share with you the ship’s flight plan,” SAM-E said. “All ships are legally required to log their destination prior to departure, and comm buoy pings and relay records are monitored to make sure ships actually go where they say they will. Only military and rescue vessels can skip this procedure.”
Well, that was something. Amazing that an assassin was leaving such an obvious trail, though. Was the assassin an amateur? Ygara ought to be ashamed, dying like that.