2163

Cardinal Katherine Eckhart always played by the rules. But few others did, and she was not naive. Bishop Katongo, her officially appointed contact, was prompt and personable, but she didn't know him. She mentally struck out highlights of her report and all her personal commentary, sat watching him.

"You're sure that's all you want to say?" he asked.

Now, if you're Dorji's man, would you be asking that? She thought. There was a chance he really belonged to Vakenuz, but he could just as easily have asked on Akilah Mkapa's behalf. It wouldn't surprise her to learn he was on the take. She assured him she'd have something more to report next week, thanked him for his time, went straight to the diocese's House of Vigil and asked the captain for someone discreet. She waited in the courtyard until a man no younger than sixty appeared on the bench next to her—had she ever seen such an old Vigilant?

"Cardinal. It's an honor," he said. "My name is Vora. The captain tells me you have something you need done quietly?"

"Do you know what I'm here for?"

"More or less."

"I mean . . . what I'm really here for?"

The barest hint of a smile tugged at Vora's lips. He snorted lightly.

"Would you trust Bishop Katongo?"

"With money or your life, sure. Not with information."

"I need two secure lines. One to Vakenuz, and one to Dorji."

Vora nodded, pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket, scribbled away and handed her a slip.

"Meet me at that address tomorrow at noon."

He drew himself up off the bench and bowed.

"Wait. You do understand that helping me could get you involved in—"

Vora raised a hand.

"I'm seventy-six, Cardinal. It's a miracle I made it past sixty, with as long I've been on stims. I don't mind the risk. Though, it might not hurt to ask yourself what your tolerance is."

If anyone cared about my tolerance, I wouldn't be here. Eckhart sat in the shaded courtyard and admired the carefully tended flowers for a time.

She didn't know what she'd expected at the address, but it wasn't a bistro one block off the Ndhlovu University campus. Fashionable, urbane young folks sipped their teas, ate their salads, and determinedly ignored the middle-aged woman trying to act natural. How many of them recognized her from the press conference? Had her face been visible on television at all?

"Let's go." Vora was standing beside her, seemingly appearing out of thin air again.

"Ah . . . right."

He wordlessly led her west a few blocks—the sudden presence of hanzi on banners told her she'd entered Lusaka's Chinatown. Vora ushered her into a jewelry store, the tinkling bell alerting a greying woman whose greeting died in her mouth as she recognized Vora.

"Oh. You." She scowled, waved him off, busying herself with her inventory.

They went through a door behind the counter, down a flight of stairs, and into the back of what looked to be a storage room. Tucked amid stacked crates was an array of machines, most the size of suitcases, connected by tidy bundles of wires. By some art, they transformed the two ordinary phones on the card table before her into the most secure long-distance communication known since the Cataclysm.

"The phone to the left connects to Cardinal Vakenuz, the right to Cardinal Dorji. I'll be upstairs when you're done."

Eckhart had counted twelve steps down into the basement, and waited until she counted twelve for Vora before picking up the left phone. Five seconds later, there was a click.

"Vakenuz speaking."

"It's me, apologies for the breach of protocol."

". . . One moment." He set the phone down; Eckhart thought she heard a lock being drawn. "Our go-between has been compromised?"

"It seems that way. I'm working with a local Vigilant; I trust him."

"Very well. And?"

"Mkapa and her people put me through the paces for a few days, but haven't actively interfered with me at all. I was able to meet X and speak with him before the press conference."

"Your impression?"

"In my opinion, he can think for himself. At least on some level."

"Elaborate."

"Again, this is based on limited interaction, but he seems to doubt himself a great deal. Not just at the level of individual choices, but who or what he is supposed to be. The robots we are familiar with either act exactly as they're told, or can choose how to optimally meet their programmed goals. They don't agonize."

"Reasonable. Is he as firmly under Cain's influence as he sounded during his speech?"

"That is . . . unfortunately the case. Whatever it is that is causing him so much uncertainty, he feels that Cain helps him past. Doppler too, for that matter. Separating him from them seems far-fetched."

"Perhaps."

That's it? "After having some time to digest the dossiers Dorji gave me, I'd say the most viable strategy is to get between Cain and Doppler. They have some old—"

"Has anyone attempted to interfere with your duties?"

"Surveillance, but nothing direct."

"Provable?"

"No, but—"

"Carry on as you've been, Cardinal. I expect another report in two weeks."

Click.

Eckhart sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to reset her mindset: treat this like it's the first call. She picked up the other phone.

"This is Dorji, how may I help you?"

"It's me."

"Katherine! Glad to hear from you, though I'm a bit confused about the method."

"It seemed unsafe to have Bishop Katongo pass things along. I've arranged for a secure direct line to you."

"I'm sorry it's come to that. Are you well otherwise? Safe?"

"Yes, I don't think the Tanganyika folks mean to let any harm come to me, though I'm still taking my own precautions."

"And Mkapa is honoring our arrangements?"

"Yes, I've been let to wander around unsupervised. But I suspect they have me under surveillance."

"If we make an issue of that, we jeopardize the arrangement. I don't like asking this, but let it slide for now. We need you in there."

"I understand."

"From the way X spoke, he certainly seems . . . real, doesn't he?"

"I think he is."

"I trust your judgment on this, but you have to admit it's troubling. If he really is sentient, and if he really was made by Doctor Light, the theological implications are . . ."

"Staggering, yes." Eckhart reminded herself that this was what gave Dorji his power; he cared, he empathized, he let you feel that you shared something. His motives may well be benign, but you can't afford to let him run you over any more than you can let Vakenuz. "I know it's early, but I think we should abandon any notion of getting between X and Cain, or X and Doppler. He's too attached to them already."

There was a soft laugh on the other end.

"I respect that you see goals beyond the goal, but you may have gotten the wrong impression somehow. I wanted you for this role because you stay within the lines. Did Bishop Katongo say something to you?"

Eckhart swallowed hard. Dorji likely knew Katongo hadn't said any such thing—he was going to glean something from her denial unless she was careful.

"I've just gotten into my own head too much. I assumed there were hidden meanings to . . . nevermind."

"Ah, that's what spending too much time in the Collegium instead of out in the world can do," Dorji said, sighing. "I often feel that way too. Don't worry about it, just put your faith in the qualities God gave you to serve as a mediator in this matter, as I put my faith in them. Anything else?"

"No, that's all for now."

"Take some time to relax when you can, you sound tense. Report back in two weeks. Thank you for this."

Click.

Had she managed to satisfy his curiosity? She suspected she'd know by whether or not Vakenuz lit into her the next time she called. She put the phone down and sat on the bottom step. She believed in what she had been charged with, but her intuition told her that to remain a pawn moved by others would bring disaster.

She sighed and rejoined Vora at the top of the stairs.