Days 23-24 (Moving)

12 Moving

Peter M. Caster didn't know anything.

``Listen,'' he said, ``I'll be flying in next week to take care
of everything. You can speak to me then, if it's a good time. The
only thing I can tell you is that now is not.''

Grant was about to raise some objection to this when the man hung
up.

The reporter was not at work for another straight day, having
remained home after calling in to check the tech desk's opinion
of his machine's viability. They'd been ready to certify it as
clean of all viruses until Anders had let it slip exactly which
virus it was that Grant had exposed the machine to. Now they
wanted to scrap it and burn the scraps. Grant wasn't to return
until they got an entirely new machine for him. This didn't
present an obstacle for him - he'd telecommuted before, and he'd
replaced the computer that the power surge had fried - but it was
annoying. He'd operated under deadline before, but none so
self-imposed as this one. He needed to get ahold of Dr. Caster's
effects and soon.

The brother had been of no help whatsoever. He'd had no idea what
Caster had been working on, for one. Even after Grant had given
him the usual speech about being a journalist and investigating a
lead, etc, Peter had simply brushed him off.

Intellectually, Grant knew that the man had just been through the
loss of a brother, but he couldn't help be annoyed by him. This
was important work, after all. His future and the future of who
knew how many people depended on it.

He sighed. He'd have to watch out for that sort of thinking, or
else he'd end up just like VonCannon.

There were a few choices available to him. Foremost in his mind
was breaking into Caster's house and simply taking what he
needed. Preventing him from doing this was the fact that, while
he had bent more than a few rules in the past and even more in
the present, he had never actually broken the law. Unless, of
course, he counted handing over proprietary corporate information
to a third party. He wasn't sure if that was illegal or would
simply get him sued out of existence, but he didn't care to find
out. Regardless, it was a different sort of crime entirely from
breaking someone's window open and sneaking inside to make off
with their goods. If the law office of Loretta had been concerned
with the impropriety of his handling of the virus, he didn't dare
imagine what her reaction would be when she found out about the
breaking and entering.

The second choice was not appealing, as he had just done it and
proved it ineffective. Call the brother, claim to be on a story
(which, technically, he was, though he was growing increasingly
certain that no paper would ever print it) and try to get to the
effects this way. The problem was, apparently the will was in
doubt. Some sort of last-minute change had embroiled Peter
Caster, and the man was in no mood to deal with journalists or
anyone else for that matter who wanted a piece of the pie.
Negotiations were underway between the Caster family and the
doctor's lawyer.

That was the final option, of course, though no option could
truly be called 'final' while the smash and grab was still on the
table. He could call up Dr. Caster's lawyer and give him the same
speech he'd given the brother. Grant rather cynically had already
concluded that this would not work, but as a professional
journalist it was his job to go through the motions.

He went through his notes from Caster's death - faithfully backed
up to his file server while he'd been working on it - and found a
contact number for his lawyer. He'd meant to call the man when he
was first researching the story, but he'd known even back then
that all he'd get for his trouble was a tight lipped ``that is
confidential information''.

Jeremy Ember - of the law offices of Ember, Morgan, and Tuft -
picked up his phone on the second ring. ``Ember.''

``My name is Grant Wynn, I'm a-''

``Ah, Mr. Wynn.'' Jeremy's voice sounded like he'd expected the
call. ``You're the one who broke this story about Vervicom, were
you not?''

``I - yes.'' Grant said, somewhat put off balance. He hadn't
expected notoriety.

``I believe you also wrote a story,'' Ember said in the tone of a
man getting his facts lined up in order to make a larger point, ``
about a client of mine, a Doctor James Caster.''

``An obituary, but yes.''

Jeremy continued talking. ``And now you are speaking to me. I do
not think this is a coincidence.''

``I don't believe in coincidence, Mr. Ember.''

``No,'' the voice came after a pause. ``I suppose you don't.''
There was another pause and Grant was about to say something to
break the silence when Ember came back. ``Perhaps we should meet
in my offices.''

The reporter was surprised but was practiced enough not to let it
show. ``That sounds good to me, name a time and I'll make my way
up there.''

The lawyer named a time. It left very little to the commute.
Grant replied with a simple ``I'm on my way.''

During the drive, Grant's thoughts drifted wildly though
thankfully the car remained on course. That conversation had not
been at all what he'd expected. He ruefully thought back to the
cynicism that had prevented him from talking to the lawyer
earlier. Ember seemed to have instantly divined Grant's purpose,
something which Grant himself seemed unsure of. He kept thinking
back to Caster's dying demand to see the lawyer, and now that
lawyer - the only man on earth to know what had passed between
them - wanted to talk to Grant. It seemed strange, and once again
he found himself wondering whether he was actually that lucky or
whether events had been manipulated for him. He ground his teeth
- he wanted this to be over, and for chance to go back to being
left up to chance.

Ember, Morgan, and Tuft (was it coincidence that he kept seeing
the name 'Morgan' everywhere, or was there significance to it?)
had their law offices in the same district as the Gazette, which
was convenient for finding the place. At this point his Vervicom
manufactured GPS was sitting at the bottom of one of the
Gazette's dumpsters, which made it more difficult to get around
and did less for his peace of mind than he would have hoped. He'd
had to build in an extra twenty minutes 'getting lost' allowance
into any trip he planned now, and he'd been covertly shopping
around for replacement units, preferably manufactured someplace
far overseas that had never even heard of the beleaguered
software giant. Until he found such a thing, though, he was
slowly and painstakingly learning his way around the city
himself.

Eventually, after passing the Gazette twice, he found the offices
he was looking for and then, after passing by his workplace once
more, a parking spot. He was at this point past the time that
Ember had allotted for him, but something told the journalist
that this wouldn't actually matter.

He entered the building. The secretary barely looked up at his
entrance but Grant took the time to examine the man closely, in
case he was one of the many who'd come through the Gazette's
halls. The last thing he needed right now was for someone to come
back to Anders and report that Grant was working on his day off.
Anders took reprieves from work seriously, and made sure everyone
else did as well.

``How can I help you?'' the receptionist seemed to have realized
that Grant wasn't going somewhere in a hurry and therefore would
not be leaving in any sort of timely manner without help. He
didn't seem happy about this.

``I have an appointment with Mr. Ember?''

``Third floor.'' That ought to do it.

Seeing that there was no further conversation to be had here and
not really desiring one anyway, Grant headed to the elevators and
pushed the button for the third floor.

It hadn't occurred to him to ask where on the third floor Ember
kept his offices, having figured he'd find the way once he got
there. When the elevator doors opened, he found that he was
right. The third floor was Ember's offices.

The building hadn't seemed very big from the outside, but when an
entire floor was your office that seemed to balance it out. Ember
himself was already standing; probably, the reporter imagined, he
was notified whenever somebody pushed the button which would lead
them to his office.

``Mr Wynn,'' Jeremy Ember, esq, shook Grant's hand before Grant
himself knew it was happening. ``I'm glad you could come on such
short notice. Have a seat.''

Jeremy was by far more personable than Loretta had been, but
Grant got the same feeling from him as he had from her; that of
watching, noting, writing everything down that happened even if
not on paper. ``It was no problem,'' the reporter managed, trying
to maintain the professional manner and journalistic instincts
that'd gotten him into this trouble in the first place.

Ember sat down at his own desk and faced Grant. ``I must make
myself very clear, now. When you called today, I told you that I
could not speak to you.'' he raised a hand to forestall the
reporter's obvious objection that this was not in fact the case. ``
Therefore,'' he added pointedly, ``you are not here, and we are
not having this conversation. I have, in fact, never met you, nor
you me.''

``Off the record, then.'' Grant supplied.

``Very much so.'' Jeremy said, not without a bit of humor. He
paused, then appeared to take a different tack altogether. ``
Doctor James Caster, 41, originally from Columbus. I would of
course know this information even if I hadn't been paraphrasing
your story, but I wanted to illustrate that I keep up with the
news. He died on his way to meet another client of mine.''

Grant was about to open his mouth to say something, but was
interrupted very suddenly by the lawyer.

``Do not, under any circumstances, speak the name you are
thinking of right now, Mr. Wynn.'' he said, imperatively but
calmly. ``Doctor Caster has passed and most of the privilege
between us has passed with him. But of my living clients I can
say nothing, so it is important that this particular client go
un-named.''

In truth, Grant hadn't been about to mention VonCannon. But now
he knew that Ember was aware of a great deal more than the
reporter had credited him with. ``I understand.''

Ember projected the illusion of relaxing, though Grant was sure
he'd done no such thing. ``Good, I am glad I didn't have to spell
it out for you, especially as I am required by both the law and
the strictures of my profession to do no such thing.''

There was a pause while Grant tried to figure out the most
politic way to ask the question he had on his mind. The last bit
of the Caster puzzle, the deathbed change of will, had been
nagging at him ever since he'd heard it. It wasn't germane to the
story, however, so he had regretfully let it drop. Now he found
himself again wondering if that had been a wise choice.

``You want to know what passed between Doctor Caster and I, the
night he was injured.'' Jeremy said bluntly.

``Yes.'' Grant admitted, thrown off the balance he'd just
regained.

``Do not look so surprised, Mr. Wynn, anticipating people is my
job. The especially good among us know that anticipating
questions is an even more important part of this.'' He leaned in.
``I do not mean to brag, but I am especially good.'' He leaned
back in his chair and appeared to think over the question he
himself had raised. ``Privilege is a funny thing.''

Grant knew that, at some point, he was going to run into this
wall. Then again, Ember had seemed willing to talk about
VonCannon, if only in an oblique way. He may not be out of luck
yet.

``For example,'' Jeremy had continued talking. ``in this state,
the contents of a will are not public knowledge as long as there
is a dispute over it.''

``And Doctor Caster's brother is contesting the will.'' Grant
finished for him.

Ember seemed genuinely impressed. ``Very good, Mr. Wynn, I see
you have been doing your research. That is something our
professions have in common - there is much more to be done behind
the scenes than most people appreciate.'' his tone seemed to
convey that their very conversation was to be counted as 'behind
the scenes'. It wasn't the first for Grant and he was
disconcertingly certain that Ember had taken part in
conversations like this before as well.

``The interesting thing about this is not just that Mr. Peter
Caster is in another state, because while that could potentially
relieve me of my duty to safeguard the contents of the will, as a
legal and ethical matter it is very much up in the air.'' he
paused as though thinking. ``The interesting thing is that Mr.
Peter Caster's notice that he was contesting this will has never
appeared in our systems.''

``So he was just talk?'' Grant wasn't sure why, if that was the
case, Ember had bothered to explain all that.

``Quite the contrary.'' Jeremy seemed more interested in telling
the tale the longer it went on. ``I received a call from his
lawyer just yesterday, asking whether we were intending to reply
to his notice. He is quite serious.''

There was a pause where Grant could have asked a question, but
once again Ember spoke up just in time. ``Do you know the company
that manufactures the servers our systems operate under?''

``I probably do.'' Grant said, his heart sinking.

``Yes, you very probably do indeed. Interestingly enough, the law
firm which contacted us uses such machines as well. So really, it
is impossible to tell where that note was lost.''
[(0x0640) Peter Caster would, not knowing what the devices that
fell into his possession were or what purpose they served, have
had them eventually recycled too far away for their return to
this area.]

``So, the will may not be in dispute, then?''

``If we received the note, and our system lost it, then the will
is in dispute. If, on the other hand, their systems lost the note
before it was sent to us, then there is no dispute.'' he smiled. ``
It used to be customary to use a human courier for information
like this and in this case I believe that is what will eventually
happen. But it has not happened yet. And I am confident that it
was not our systems which lost this information.'' this was
tinged with a bit of pride, but Grant knew that if his machines
losing the note had worked for his purposes, the lawyer would at
this moment be shaking his head sadly at the poor state of his
servers, that they should lose such data.

If he'd been thinking ethically, he probably would excuse himself
at this point. However, he rationalized, this wasn't for a story,
really. This was something else entirely. He couldn't exactly be
accused of an ethics violation if he hadn't actually been on
duty, could he?

Naturally, the answer was ``Of course he could'', but he didn't
want to consider that and so he did not. Instead, he spoke up. ``
So, until you get this notice - that you have no legally binding
way of knowing is even en route - the will is not in dispute.''

``Mr. Wynn, you would make an excellent lawyer.'' Such a
statement might not be considered a compliment in most cases, and
Ember's tone indicated that he hadn't meant it in a ``stalwart
upholder of the law'' sort of way.

``What was in the will?'' Grant said, finally speaking the
question that'd given him so much trouble.

``Why Mr. Wynn, I am glad that you asked.'' Jeremy had apparently
been leading up to this point. ``Doctor Caster and I spent a
great deal of time on it, much to his detriment. The doctors had
informed him that he was unlikely to survive and, frankly, his
continued wakefulness was much a surprise as well. Thus, he
arranged with me that his research should carry on.''

``And what sort of research would that be?'' Grant knew, of
course, but he needed to know how much Ember knew.

``Very interesting things. I'm no scientist, I'm sure you can
appreciate that, but I know complexity when I see it. The...
device he was working on, it was beyond complexity.'' Jeremy
seemed to be at a loss for words, and Grant knew this was in fact
genuine due to the annoyed look that crossed the lawyer's face.
It had to be an unfamiliar feeling.

``So you saw what he was doing?''

``His house,'' Ember explained, ``began to be cleared this
morning for the estate sale. I received a call from the movers
that there was something they could not easily deal with. I have
employed these movers for years, Mr. Wynn, they have moved far
more unpleasant things than scientific instruments. I
investigated myself to find.... Shall we simply call it The
Device? The Device. We managed to get it going after a time, but
it was not easy.''

``Wait, you moved this thing?''

``I did not move it myself, of course, but the movers eventually
found some way of doing so. I don't recall what it was and I
don't especially want to.''

That ruled out the Immobile Machine, Grant thought, as they
tended not to get names like that if you could move them. He
tried a different tack. ``So this machine, how did you feel about
it?''

Ember laughed. ``It is not every day somebody questions my
emotions toward a machine.'' he paused upon seeing that Grant was
serious and, instead of discarding the question, appeared to take
it seriously. ``I would have to honestly say confusion, and that
is a feeling I am quite unfamiliar with.''

Unless the professor had built a Confusion Machine for Caster to
copy and not told Grant - and really, all his Machines were
confusing - this was something out of the reporter's experience
entirely. Still, VonCannon had seemed adamant about recovering
whatever it was James had been working on, and this mystery
device definitely qualified.

Something Ember had said earlier nagged at Grant. ``The movers...
you said they were clearing out the house for an estate sale?''

``Ah, yes.'' Jeremy replied, glad to be back to more normal
questions. ``I never got around to telling you the precise
contents of the will, had I?'' This was spoken as though Grant
had explicitly reminded him. ``All of the doctor's assets were to
be liquidated, and left in trust to further the research of a
certain client of mine.'' this last was said in a significant
enough tone that Grant had no doubt as to who the certain client
was.

``When is this sale?'' Grant asked quickly. He didn't have an
enormous expense account like some reporters, but the Gazette
gave him something, and he was sure whatever bizarre machine had
been carted away would make for a good story once VonCannon was
done with it, so technically it wasn't against the rules. He'd
gotten very good at rationalizing, lately.

``Ah,'' Ember said, a pained look crossing his face. ``This was
the reason for the rather... abbreviated schedule I gave you on
the phone. I'm sorry to say that it began thirty-five minutes
ago.''

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