The Administration Series (17 page)

Ordinarily, he would have spoken to them separately, but they had refused the suggestion. As Justice had already conducted all their interviews with brother and sister in the same room, he didn't see the point in antagonising them over the question.

"Mr Teffera, Ms Teffera, my name is Senior Para-investigator Val Toreth."

The man nodded, and stood to shake Toreth's hand.

"I'm Marc Teffera. This is my sister, Caprice. She is the official CEO of LiveCorp, as well as head of the legal department."

Toreth shook her hand too, resisting the urge to make any comments about counting his fingers afterwards. "This is an informal interview."

The woman offered him a seat. "And we are here as Jon's relatives."

You're just choosing to do it here, where I won't forget what else you are. "Excellent. Well, I'll try not to take up too much of your valuable time, because I already have your previous interviews with Justice. First of all, then, is there anything you wish to add to your Justice statements, anything you've thought of since?"

"No," Caprice Teffera said with finality.

Toreth looked between them, meeting a united front of non-cooperation.

"In that case," he said, "I have a few questions. One thing it didn't mention in the file was why you became interested in SimTech in the first place."

"I assume that you've seen Jon's medical file?"

His nod seemed to annoy her. "Involvement in the sim was Jon's idea," she said. "It gave him back parts of his life he thought he had lost forever. However, he didn't spend corporate money recklessly — all the investments were reviewed by the finance division here and approved by the board."

Marc Teffera nodded. "Jon insisted on that. We — I at least — would have been happy to support SimTech for personal reasons."

"So would I," Caprice agreed. "But it wasn't necessary. LiveCorp has interests in all areas of the leisure industry — it's the core of our business, the foundation on which our mother built the corporation. We have contracts with Administration leisure centres across Europe as well as extensive private sector business."

And lots of powerful friends, she didn't need to add.

"P-Leisure is our largest representative in the sexual leisure market. "No flicker of emotion as she said it. "It's one of our most profitable subsidiaries, and SimTech is a natural partner for them."

The kind of person who'd say adult-themed entertainment when she meant porn. "You've been satisfied by the results?" Toreth asked.

"More than satisfied," Marc said without hesitation. "They have delivered ahead of schedule and fulfilled their side of the contract admirably."

"So you'll be reinvesting?"

Marc opened his mouth to reply, but his sister cut in. "That will depend, of course, on the formal financial assessment of P-Leisure's partnership with SimTech, which has yet to be completed."

"So there are problems?"

Caprice smiled coolly. "The question was already under routine review. With Jon's death we'll be reconsidering several of our associations."

Marc Teffera nodded, adding silent support to her statement.

Toreth decided to try something blunter. "And if the sim were proved to have killed him, then you'd pull out?"

"The situation is under review," she repeated.

"Do you think Jon's death was sabotage?" Toreth asked.

Now Caprice leaned across and, without making the least attempt to hide it, whispered something to her brother, who nodded. There was no point, Toreth knew, in asking what she'd said.

"We are taking steps of our own to investigate that," Caprice said blandly.

Clean, but hard, Liz Carey's junior had called them. "In any particular directions?"

"We're being guided by our security division." Caprice folded her hands on the table in front of her. "And, naturally, they will do all in their power that is both legal and proper."

Naturally. In fact, LiveCorp would already be devoting far more resources to discovering who might be behind Teffera's death than Tillotson would ever authorize. No doubt they'd take steps to deal with any culprits too.

Toreth closed his eyes briefly, opening them again before the vision of a spiralling corporate vendetta in the middle of his investigation became too disturbingly clear.

"Para-investigator," Marc said. "If I may ask something?"

"Of course."

"Do you have any evidence that this . . ." Marc glanced at his sister.

"Kelly Jarvis," Caprice supplied.

"Yes, of course. Do you have any evidence for a link between her death and Jon's?"

"We're investigating a number of possibilities."

He clearly took that as a negative. "But is there any reason to suspect her death was caused by the sim?"

The interest in Kelly was hardly surprising. The only real question was whether the Tefferas were more concerned about their brother's death, or the health of their investment in the sim.

Caprice was watching him intently, waiting for his answer. He decided to try a direct approach. "Why do you want to know?"

Another whispered exchange, then Caprice said, "Internal security arrangements."

Of course — he'd missed the third possibility. "If any sabotage is aimed at SimTech rather than LiveCorp, you'll both be sleeping better than you have for the last few weeks?"

She inclined her head.

A likely enough reason. "There's no reason at all to blame the sim, as yet," Toreth said. "Beyond her body being discovered in the couch, with no other easily attributable cause of death."

"And do you expect to find anything more definitive?" Marc asked.

Let me check my crystal fucking ball. "I really couldn't say."

Caprice nodded, her expression closing again — obviously exactly the answer she'd expected, if maybe not what she'd hoped for. "If anything is resolved in that respect, we'd like to know at the earliest opportunity."

Toreth had an urge to ask why the hell she thought he ought to go out of his way to help them, when they were doing their damndest to shut him out. "I'll keep you informed, of course. As far as is legal and proper."

That drew a sharp glance from Caprice, and Toreth mentally put even money on getting a memo later from Tillotson about upsetting corporates. Fuck him.

"Do you think that your brother's death was caused by the sim?" he asked.

"I'm a lawyer, not a doctor," she snapped. Then, as Marc Teffera shifted in his seat, her face softened very slightly. "I wouldn't blame the sim without some better evidence. We've known for years that there would be a limit on Jon's time with us. As I'm sure you read, he decided against further treatment, which was . . . perhaps not what the rest of the family wanted. But there was never any arguing with Jon when he made up his mind."

"He wanted quality, not quantity," Marc added. "In life and —" He tapped his fingers on the table. "In life and the corporation. And —"

He stopped, his voice hoarse, and Caprice reached over and laid her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. Unostentatious and, as far as Toreth's could tell, perfectly sincere grief and sympathy.

However, when she turned back to him, her expression was unreadable and her voice cool again. "Do you have any more questions, Para-investigator?"

Dismissed from the audience. "I'd like to speak to some of the LiveCorp staff, especially at P-Leisure," Toreth said. "Primarily the people who handled the contract with SimTech."

"Of course," Caprice said. "We'll help in any way we can."

The woman could give lessons in polite insincerity. He was wasting his time here, time he could have spent doing something more useful. Perhaps if he'd been here two weeks ago he might've been able to pull something out, but they'd had too long to pick their positions and dig in to defend. To get anything now, he'd need the kind of damage waiver not normally available for people like the Tefferas.

Trying to hide his irritation, Toreth went through the ritual of goodbyes and empty promises to call him if anything occurred, and went back to I&I.

Maybe things would look brighter after the weekend.

Four days later, Toreth sat in the coffee room and pondered the unfairness of life. A juicy corporate sabotage case involving a major corporation would be a perfect addition to his CV. Right now, Warrick's protestations notwithstanding, he'd put his money on a malfunction of new technology and thus not I&I's concern. The investigation would be passed over to the Department of Finance and Corporate Affairs for an enquiry that would stretch out for months, even years; by the time they reached a conclusion, SimTech would be long bankrupt.

Toreth stared into his mug and sighed. The end of another long day spent wading through files — Justice files, corporate reports, medical reports, interviews from SimTech and LiveCorp, technical files — and for all the progress he'd made he might as well have stayed in bed. He'd found no clue as to who, how or why. Normally, Toreth preferred method over motive any day. Right now, he would have accepted the slenderest hint of either with profound gratitude.

"It's unnatural, that's what it is," Toreth told his coffee.

Chevril looked up from his borrowed copy of the
JAPI
. "Must be something bloody odd if
you
think so." From his vantage point of long years of faithful marriage, he vocally disapproved of Toreth's lifestyle.

"No one can be as nice a guy as Jon Teffera and manage a successful corporation," Toreth elaborated. "It's not natural."

"Oh, right. Your case." He looked slightly relieved. "Figurehead?"

"Something like that." Toreth dipped a biscuit in his coffee and nibbled thoughtfully. "Except not quite. He didn't do the day-to-day stuff, but he was definitely involved. All the staff knew him, and they all, without exception, loved him. Not a bad word to say about the bastard. There's a brother and sister Teffera at LiveCorp, and they're harder, no doubt, but they're still nicer than your average corporates."

That didn't impress Chevril. "So are scorpions."

"Point. They liked him, though, and it seemed genuine enough. No rivalry that I noticed, and the staff all said the same thing."

"Christ, you're right. It's
not
natural." Chevril laid the journal down on his knee. "Doesn't mean it's not corporate, mind."

"That's what the brother and sister think — they were fucking delighted to hear the sabotage might be aimed at SimTech. Right now they've got gun-toting security lurking everywhere in case they're next on the list. Mind you, if LiveCorp
is
the target then they're probably right to worry, because Jon Teffera's death isn't going to hurt LiveCorp that much." Toreth picked a bit of biscuit out from between his teeth while he thought about his interview with the Tefferas. "If it were me, I'd kill the sister. She's the smart one mummy made CEO."

"How'd he die?" Chevril asked after a moment.

"No fucking clue." He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, then shrugged. "Could even be natural causes. He'd got a medical file thick enough to beat him to death with."

Chevril eyed him, obviously perplexed. "So why the hell are you wasting your time with it?"

"I'm beginning to wonder the same thing." Toreth sighed. "I've spent five days digging for dirt on Teffera or LiveCorp, and I haven't got enough to fill a coffee mug. They're so clean there almost
has
to be something wrong somewhere."

"So what does that leave? Someone couldn't put up with his charming smile? Or how about an affair with someone's wife — that's usually a good one."

"Or husband," Toreth said, just to provoke the grimace of distaste from Chevril.

He duly obliged, nose wrinkling. "I suppose so. So was he?"

"Not in the real world. Paraplegic."

"Let me guess — not at all bitter about it?"

"You're getting the hang of it. You can add bravery and a helping of noble suffering to the all-round sugary niceness."

"I can feel my teeth rotting." Chevril stared at the ceiling as he considered. "Um, how about . . . good-looking nurse in the picture? He was about to marry her — okay, okay, or him — and disinherit the family?"

"No." Toreth gave the idea a moment's more consideration, then dismissed it. "And, you know, I don't think they'd mind if he did."

"Okay, I give up. So what have you got?"

"Fuck all. No, tell a lie — a tonne of files and a fuck-load of waspy little memos from Tillotson. Buzzing in every five minutes. I think he's got a nest of the fucking things in his office. Half of them are telling me to get a move on, half of them are telling me not to piss off any corporates while I'm doing it."

Chevril nodded, looking almost sympathetic. "I get Kel to deal with those."

"I told Sara this afternoon that if I see another one, I'm going to hard-copy the lot, take them to Tillotson's office and ram them down whatever bodily orifice I find first."

Chevril snorted. "Let me know if you do, so I can sell tickets. What about your other corpse?"

Toreth had to think for a moment. "The girl from SimTech? No cause of death there either. Could easily have nothing to do with Teffera."