The Second Sphere
Chapter 17

The entrance to the Four Provinces was a door to another world. Darkness radiated from its depths. On the other side of that chasm was the path to securing my future. The tingle in the bottom of my stomach was nervousness. I couldn’t fuck this up.

I held my breath as I stepped into the thick air of the bar, which smelled like rusty metal and synthetic blood. The room was a few pin drops away from total silence. For a moment, I thought set up. There was a lone figure sitting on a stool dosing. Dampness plastered his stringy black hair against his forehead and the sagging skin about his jaw quivered. He kept his head perfectly still.

Dawkins lingered under a dim light at the other end of the bar, wiping down drives. He was a spectral vision in the orange haze. When I caught his eye, he glanced toward a darkened corner where a shapeless figure sat at a booth. I approached the figure, this holder of important secrets, and took my place across from him.

“Thanks for coming,” Victor Newberry said. His voice was raspy. He sounded on the edge of tumbling into self-destruction. The outline of his handsome face pushed against the blackness.

“Easier than I thought to get a sit down with you,” I said.

“Lila can’t say enough good things about her father,” he said.

His words caught me with a glancing blow. This man before me spoke of my daughter in the present tense, as though he’d just been with her. A little memory tickled the back of my chip. I’d been ripped away from her several evenings before and hadn’t thought to give her an explanation.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Brilliant journalist,” he said. “Great mind. Just finished a tremendous story on the upcoming election for Terrestrial governor.”

“Glad she’s working out,” I said. I hoped to hear that she’d grown tired of Newberry’s hypocrisy and had decided to take her skills to another, perhaps less left-wing, publication.

Newberry traced the edge of the table with a fingertip, his gaze on the table. He was more than a little inebriated, which was perfect for what I needed. I reached across and set the small trace on the sleeve of his brown blazer.

“I understand you had some misgivings about her new job,” he said, just as I pulled my hand back across the table.

“Misgivings? Sure. Not exactly like you and I are on the same side of this Green Revolution issue,” I said. This wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have.

Newberry’s eyes glittered, and his handsome, pale face became quite grave. “Lila’s the real reason I’m here. I trust her. And she trusts you.” His lips twitched suddenly. He picked up the drive in front of him, put it to his neck, and took a deep breath.

“You’ve caused quite a commotion at the Laslow Corporation, Mr. Newberry,” I said.

He grunted. “Well, Mr. Cox, I’m sorry about that. I can assure you that it was not intentional.”

“Of course not.”

“I know you don’t think I’m telling you the truth, but--”

“No, I don’t think you are,” I said. “I think the GR is all too happy to have Intelligence services thrown off the scent of actual threats.”

Newberry leaned back into the shadows. His fingers drummed the table. A waitress bot came out of the kitchen, stared at us for a moment, then took off to the other end of the bar. I sighed.

“I hate to put a rush on this, Mr. Newberry, but there’s a war that I’m fighting, which seems to be never-ending.”

“I know that, Orion.”

“You must have something awfully important you want to tell me if you want to keep it from digital eyes,” I said.

“There aren’t too many people I can trust right now.” His voice quivered in the still air.

“Falling out of favor with the Green Revolution?” I asked.

Newberry raised the drive again. The waitress bot glided to the table. I ordered an enhancement and she went off.

“As much as I wish I could say it was only that simple, I can’t.”

We could go back and forth with the small talk about Victor Newberry’s level of involvement with the Green Revolution all day.

“I’m surprised you’d agree to meet at a GR bar of all places. Seems like they keep pretty tight tabs on this place, have a sense of who’s going in and who’s going out.”

“There’re a few folks who know that I’m here,” he said. “They know that I’m meeting with you.”

“Well,” I said. “I’m glad that you wanted to come talk about this. Face to face.”

“Lila says you’re a guy who keeps his word.”

“I try,” I said.

“That’s not good enough,” he said. “I’m going to need certain protections. There are some of us who want this information in the right hands. Someone trustworthy.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I need to be sure I’ll be protected.”

“Newberry, I’m here to talk about the Lunar Capitol plot that was passed along to us,” I said.

“Well, I’m not, Mr. Cox,” he said. Irritation rose in my throat, left a bitter taste on my tongue.

“Then what do you want, Mr. Newberry?” I asked. “Because it seems to me that you’re not in the position to be asking for favors.”

“I believe you’ll be interested in this information,” Newberry said. His voice was slow, thickened with enhancements. “But before I can do that, I need to have some guarantees.”

“I can’t just make guarantees, Mr. Newberry.”

“I know your position, Mr. Cox. Don’t think I haven’t done the background work. I’ve done it. So I know what you can and can’t do.”

Parallel tracks of thought ran through my chip. On one hand, I wanted to see where this cryptic talk about information led. On the other hand, I just wanted to get some goddamned information on who was giving him the intel and get the hell out of the Four Provinces.

“What do you want in exchange for this information?” I asked, willing to play along for a few minutes.

“New Transfers and identities for my wife and me,” he said. “And I need this information wiped from my chip.”

Victor Newberry wanted his memory wiped. This was more than just a bit interesting. “You want a full wipe?” I asked. He nodded. “That’s something that can probably be handled. But it might take some time. We’re not TSG.”

“You know people, Mr. Cox. Quincy Laslow knows people. He can do this,” Victor Newberry said.

“Okay,” I said. “But I’ve got to have some idea what this is all about.”

“I have very important information regarding the TSG,” he said. “A chip,” Newberry said. “Proof.”

“With you?” This was a bit vague for my tastes.

“Of course not.” Newberry stopped to dose. “I need it guaranteed, Mr. Cox. I need a binding contract. I need something that will let me know, officially, that you’ve agreed to my terms.”

“Newberry, it’s hard to negotiate with you when I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tomorrow, Dahlgren Institute offices. I can give you a glimpse of what I’ve got.” These words weren’t cards on the table.

“You’re willing to show this at Dahlgren?”

“I have complete control over the facilities, Mr. Cox. We can be assured of our privacy. My wife and I are--”

“You’re really willing to walk away from all of it?” A man like Newberry was at an almost unparalleled level of popularity among those sympathetic to the GR. And his wife, the billionaire, had enough money to buy security, in theory.

“This is more important than money, Mr. Cox. And quite frankly, I’d rather live on than be in possession of this for a second longer.” Newberry leaned forward. His eyes swam wildly in his head. He was high, but was most definitely sincere.

“I can be there,” I said.

“I hope you’re not planning on going back to your office and telling everyone in Intelligence about this, Mr. Cox. Because that would be a big mistake. I’m sure you told everyone that you were coming here. And perhaps have even set someone to follow me. But let me be clear that this information I’ll show you tomorrow is for your eyes only. You shouldn’t trust anyone,” he said.

“Until I know what we’re talking about, how can I share anything?”

Newberry sighed. He picked up the drive and took another dose off it.

“What time do you want me at Dahlgren?” I asked.

“Can we say 10:30?”

“And maybe then we can have a more in depth discussion of what happened in New Mumbai and who’s giving you these nuggets of information.”

Newberry smirked and nodded slightly. “Thank you, Orion,” he said.

“There’s nothing to thank me for yet,” I said.

There was a lot of code thrown around. Victor Newberry acted scared; scared enough to come to an intelligence officer at the Laslow Corporation. That meant Lila and Cody had sold me as a trustworthy person. Still, something seemed off; the words he used weren’t hitting their mark. Vague assertions about the Green Revolution and TSG weren’t making me feel better about what happened in New Mumbai. It felt like Newberry controlled our conversation from the start. I hadn’t pressed him enough for information. I needed definitions, solid pronouncements, and I hoped that my meeting with him the next day would bring those about.

Unfortunately, the Source trace was on. Our whole talk was on record. If this information were truly sensitive, I’d have to try to limit the exposure only to those people currently on the case.

As I left the bar, headed back to Laslow to track Newberry, I hoped I could trust all of them.

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