“Okay, I take it back,” he said. “It wasn’t her.”
“He found out something they’re doing, inside HelthWyzer,” said Pilar. “He felt this practice was not only unethical but dangerous to public health, and therefore immoral. He threatened to make this knowledge public; or, well, not public as such, since the press probably wouldn’t have touched it. But if he’d gone to a rival Corp, especially one outside the country, they’d have made damaging use of the information.”
“He was on your research team, wasn’t he?” said Zeb. He was trying to follow what she was saying, thus losing control of his game.
“Affiliated,” said Pilar, dispatching one of his pawns. “He confided in me. And now I’m confiding in you.”
“Why?” said Zeb.
“I’m being reassigned,” said Pilar. “To the HelthWyzer headquarters, out east. Or that’s where I hope I’m going, though it may be worse. They may think I’m lacking in enthusiasm, or suspect my loyalty. You’ll have to leave here. I can’t keep you safe once I’ve been transferred. Take my bishop with your knight.”
“That’s a bad move,” said Zeb. “It opens the way to …”
“Just take it,” she said calmly. “Then keep it in your hand. I have another one, I’ll replace it in the box. No one will know there’s a bishop missing.”
Zeb palmed the bishop. He’d learned how to do that from Slaight of Hand, back in his Floating World days. Deftly he slid it up his sleeve.
“What am I supposed to do with it?” he said. With Pilar gone, he’d be isolated.
“Just deliver it,” she said. “I’ll fake you a day pass, with a cover story attached; they’ll want to know your business in the pleeblands. Once you’re outside the HelthWyzer West Compound, there’ll be a new identity waiting. Take the bishop with you. There’s a sex club franchise called Scales and Tails, you can look it up on the net. Go to the nearest branch. The password is oleaginous. They’ll let you in. You’ll be leaving the bishop there. It’s a container, they’ll know how to open it.”
“Deliver it to who?” said Zeb. “What’s in it, anyway? Who’s they?”
“Vectors,” said Pilar.
“In what sense?” said Zeb. “Like, math vectors?”
“Let’s say biological. Vectors for bioforms. And these vectors are inside some other vectors that look like vitamin pills: three kinds, white, red, and black. And the pills are inside another vector, the bishop. Which will be carried by another vector, you.”
“What’s the thing inside the pills?” Zeb asked. “Brain candy? Code chips?”
“Definitely not. Best not to ask,” said Pilar. “But whatever you do, don’t eat any of them. If you think anyone’s following you, shove the bishop down a drain.”
“What about Glenn?” said Zeb.
“Check and mate,” said Pilar, toppling his king. She stood up, smiling. “Glenn will make his way,” she said. “He doesn’t know they killed his father. He doesn’t know yet. Or not directly. But he’s very bright.”
“You mean he’ll figure it out,” said Zeb.
“Not too soon, I hope,” said Pilar. “He’s too young for that kind of bad news. He might not be able to pretend ignorance, unlike you.”
“Some of mine’s real,” said Zeb. “Like, right now, where do I switch identities? And how do I get the pass?”
“Go into the MaddAddam chatroom, there’s a full package waiting for you. Then scramble your present gateway. You can’t afford to leave your footprints on these computers.”
“Does any of this involve different facial hair?” Zeb asked, to lighten things up. “For my new identity? And dorky pants?”
Pilar smiled. “I’ve had my beeper switched off all this time,” she said. “We’re allowed to do that on barbecue days, as long as we’re in full view. I’m turning it back on now. Don’t say anything you don’t want overheard. Journey well.”
Scales and Tails
Zeb retrieved his thumbdrive from the desk drawer where he’d hidden it, removed the cough drops that were stuck to it like barnacles, activated Intestinal Parasites on his computer, then slipped through the voracious maw of the blind nightmare worm and thence by lilypad into the chatroom of MaddAddam. Sure enough, there was a how-to pack waiting for him, though no clue as to who had left it. He opened it, assimilated the contents, and scuttled backwards, whisking away his trail as he went. Then he ground the thumbdrive underfoot – or, more accurately, he placed it under one of his bed legs and then jumped on the bed, several times – and flushed the bits down several toilets. They wouldn’t have gone down easily by themselves, being metal and plastic, but if you embed …
“It’s okay,” says Toby. “I get the picture.”