Chapter Eleven
Even Less Welcome
Gogi took the RV across a day early, to take care of all the paperwork. He parked the RV at an overnighter’s fueling station, and took an autocab into town. Bought a used but mechanically sound and good-looking sports car. Not going to take an autocab to Vogel House!
But today’s business was at the Records Bureau where he fixed the last four no-longer-cyborg’s Certs. Ark Nikanor Vosnesensky, Faddei Andre Matveev, Ken Vasiliy Meknikov, and Michael Karl Pine.
Now fine upstanding young working class lords.
And Lord Gustav Horst Vogel was still 3 Vogel. But his records showed a request for a “Missing, unaccounted for seven years” declaration of death and removal from the Family Main Line. Suspended pending investigation.
It will be interesting to see if he gets any mention tomorrow.
A little shopping, then he ate dinner at his favorite restaurant, then went back to park next to the RV and sleep in it.
In the traffic around all the Family arriving, frequently with families and servants, he simply drove through the open gates, and around to the visitor’s parking.
“Come back for the meeting, eh?” Mr. Boleslav gave him a nod before growling and stalking off to tell an outsider where to park . . .
Gogi slipped in the side entrance. Down to the kitchen where he dodged busy cooks. The head cook spotted him.
“Heading up?”
“Yep.”
“Cary, fix him a big tray to take up to the oldsters.”
That he carried up to the care ward, where he got a cheer.
“We were hoping you’d show up.” Old Yuri grinned.
Lord Dietfried just snorted, “I wish I could watch from here. At least they don’t make me wear that damned jacket.”
“That’s just because you look better in it than Lord Ernst. He doesn’t want you showing him up.”
A cackle from Lady Alia.
“Humph! Just for that, you can walk me down and gather a few dirty looks.”
Gogi rolled his eyes. “Certainly, sir. I’ll take you to your assigned seat then run for my life.”
“Ernst is an idiot, and your mother is insane.”
“Umm, emotionally . . .”
“It’s been eighteen years. She’s either insane or faking all that shit to avoid getting married off to some poor fool.” He looped the faded red ribbon of his medal over his head.
“I . . . don’t think she’s faking?”
“I can’t tell. In fact, I avoid her as much as possible.” He snorted and headed for the elevator. “C’mon. It’s time.”
He was right about the time. By the time he’d greeted a couple hundred people on the walk from the elevator to the boardroom, the footmen were rounding up numbers three through thirteen, and politely urging them to get to their seats.
Lord Ernst, of course, was already there. And stiffened when he spotted Gogi.
Lips thinned as Gogi escorted Lord Dietfried in to the closest observer’s chair.
Gogi slid out and got out of the way of the people coming in . . . ducked into the grand parlor when he spotted Lady Monika.
An old man in a formal coat eyed him. “Do I know you?”
“No, sir. Lord Gogi Vogel. 127.”
“Ah, Monika’s . . . child.”
Oh, thank you for not calling me a bastard.
“I’m Lord Henri. 58 Vogel. I was going to ask to see you, specifically.”
“Ah . . .” This is not good . . .
“What does PFUG stand for?”
Uh. Oh. He swallowed. “Project Find Uncle Gustav.”
The man’s brows rose. “How on Earth could you even start looking for him?”
Gogi straightened his shoulders. “The only thing we know is that the kidnappers said he’d been taken to Khrushchev and Cyborged.
I have, for the last five years, purchased every KHR Cyborg created that year—3720—who was offered on the Board.
Twenty-four, so far. Then I find them nice jobs, hired out so they can quit, so they can live as freely as a Cyborg is allowed in this society. ”
“You buy . . .”
“Yes. Cyborgs aren’t often auctioned like that, and Khrushchev isn’t a major manufacturer . . . It’s the only access to KHR Cyborgs I can find.”
“I . . . see.” He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s . . . rather amazing.”
“And yes, I’ve bought property and so forth, but that’s to have a place to take the Cyborgs to.
A place for them to live and so forth. I suppose I ought to just toss them back onto the Board once I do the DNA check .
. . but I’m just not that cold blooded. And .
. . yes. I took enough money to facilitate my escape, if needed. ”
“Right. May I suggest you . . . make yourself available but not too obvious for a while?” The man glanced past him. “I need to observe . . .”
“I’ll be up in the care ward.” Gogi stepped away and headed for the back of the house and the nearest servants’ stairs.
I should run. Right now.
Except, he knows about PFUG.
So he probably knows my address.
Best I find out how much money he wants, here and now.
He hit the kitchen for more drinks and snacks, and hauled them up to the care ward.
The guys were sensibly watching a dystopian movie full of gun battles and explosions, with a thin lacing of plot.
Gogi grinned and connected his computer to the in-House channel and donned earplugs so he could watch the Annual Meeting . . .
The usual Proxy for 3 Vogel wasn’t attending.
So . . . instead of 2 Vogel through 11, with 12 as proxy . . . 13, who had been an annual observer for as long as Gogi could remember, was a voting member. Lord Gottfried Gisbert Vogel looked quite keen this year.
Nodded to the old man who’d talked to Gogi.
He knows him? Well, Family. They looked roughly like age mates, though given Rejuv that isn’t a safe assumption.
A lot of gray and white-haired men out there .
. . Gustav was twenty-four . . . and as the son of .
. . Lord Alwin was a rather late born son, too .
. . The generations got a bit messed up there.
Two generations of the top men having sons when they were already over the century mark.
The other branch of the Family having their sons in their fifties and sixties . . .
Lord Ernst—a hundred and eighteen years old—and Lord Gustav at forty-three-years old are the entirety of Generation 3. Other than Lady Monika, who doesn’t count.
Generation 4? Lord Ottokar, 4 Vogel is a hundred and seventy-two years old.
Lord Ernst will probably outlive Lord Ottokar, but how many other men over a hundred—which is down to 59 Vogel—had expected to outlive Ernst, only to find a callow youth becoming the Head of Family?
Eighteen years ago . . . twenty-four-year-old Gustav and his seventeen-year-old sister were ambushed . . .
Surely that kidnapping wasn’t set up to get Gustav off the Main Line!
Gogi’s attention shifted from Lord Ernst showing the Trust’s financials, to Lady Monika, glowering in the audience. The only witness, too traumatized and emotionally unstable to be properly questioned, ever.
Why did they go to that World?
Whose idea had that been? Had someone charmed the sixteen-year-old girl? Invited her. . . “My Family owns an entire quarter of a World, come and see how the obscenely rich live! Bring your brother as a chaperone . . .”
An offshoot of the Zeller Family, pruned and resentful, pulling all their investments out of the Home World and starting a little kingdom of their own with some other dissatisfied but extremely rich families. The entitled younger generations growing up wild and undisciplined . . .
Gogi ran his hands through his hair, lighter than his mother’s. And the Zeller height, even if I am a scrawny light-weight. I’m already six foot tall, and by the ache in my shins, another growth spurt has started.
But why would those people care about the Vogel Line? That’s a stupid idea.
Getting back into the Home power structure by marrying the daughter of 2 Vogel?
They sure went about it stupidly, if that was their aim.
For money? They were supposed to be super rich. Did buying a World turn out to be a really bad financial decision?
Gogi shook his head and turned up the volume as a table full of old men grumbled, complained, asked stupid questions . . .
“I understand Lord Alwin and Lady Monika have a hundred-million mark brokerage account. Why aren’t you reporting on that?” Lord Gottfried glowering up the table.
Lord Ernst huffed a bit. “That account is their personal property, nothing to do with the Trust.”
“Really? I would have thought that you were the guardian of both Lady Monika and Lord Alwin’s accounts, while he is absent.”
Lord Ernst snorted. “That account is professionally managed. I get a statement every year. Not that it is the business of the Family Board, but it’s doing very well, and has more than tripled in value over the seventeen years it’s been in existence.”
“Seventeen years is rather a long time. “Don’t you think it’s time to declare Lord Gustav dead?”
“That is the decision of his father. Again, that is not Trust business.”
“Pushy son of a bitch, isn’t he?” Old Yuri frowned.
Lady Alia cackled. “Proxy members get their expenses paid plus ten percent. A full Member of the Board gets a salary plus expenses.”
“Oh, money. Of course.”
Lord Gottfried, still pushing. “It’s the duty of the Head of Family to maintain a working Board of Directors. Not to mention cleaning up a gaping hole at the top of the Main Line!”
“If you don’t like being a proxy, I will call up the next in line next year.” Lord Ernst scowled down the table.
“What are you covering up?”
Ernst glared. “You’ve all heard the rumors that Lord Gustav was illegally cyborged and sold.
We have no proof, just secondhand ‘so-and-so said they would . . .’ What we have is a 3 Vogel who has not been seen, but who has made three withdrawals from his bank account, confirmed with a hand print, and last May changed his address. Unfortunately that address was a hotel.
“The attack on the 300 has disrupted my attempts to look further into the matter. Now that things have settled down a bit, I should get back to that. Thank you for reminding me.
“Now any other business? And questions about the Trust? No? May I get a motion to close the meeting? Thank you, and seconded. All in favor of closing the meeting? Against. The meeting is closed. Please do join me, with your wives and families if they’ve come, for dinner . . .
***
After dinner, Lord Henri escorted Lord Dietfried to the care ward and studied Gogi.
“Eventually . . . you’re going to be charged with embezzlement. No matter how worthy the cause. And before you speak . . . I’m Senior Inquisitor Henri Vogel.”
“Oh.” Crap.
But I always wondered . . . “Well, then will you give me an unofficial opinion? If I were to find Gustav, could he be legally uncyborged? De-cyborged? Whatever. Could he be reinstalled as, right now, 3 Vogel?”
Lord Dietfried sat up straight and stared at him. “Are you trying to find Gustav? How?”
“Well, I buy every KHR Cyborg converted in 3720 that comes up on the Board. Run a DNA test.”
“Good . . . could that actually . . .” He frowned, thinking . . .
“Well, the cybernetics could be removed . . . but the zivvy.” He narrowed his eyes. “You could take him to the 300 . . . years from now.” Then he eyed Lord Henri, then Gogi. “Possible embezzlement?”
“They got recompense from those kidnappers. Ninety million, that was just sitting in a brokerage account not being used for anything. So, I’m using it. At least I’m trying to find Uncle Gustav! No one else is doing anything.”
Lord Dietfried winced. “Indeed. This seems like a sensible, if probably futile, use of the blood money. If charges are ever filed, we’ll see . . . Thank you Lord Henri. I will look into this possible misuse of funds.”
The Inquisitor bowed and departed.
Lord Dietfried sighed. “Damn boy. Even if you find him, what good does it do? He’s a Cyborg.”
Gogi took a deep breath and stepped into deep water. “Did you know that that Orgy drug kills zivvy? Plus it’s got hundreds of healing spells, including some that cause regrowth of amputated limbs.”
All the old guys were suddenly not pretending to not be eavesdropping.
“I’ve bought twenty-four Cyborgs over the last five years. Experimenting, with their agreement. An arm takes three years to reach full adult size.”
“The Orgy drug is very illegal.”
“Not on the Resort World I’m living on. Although the Inquisition may feel otherwise.”
“Gogi . . .” hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What are these former Cyborgs going to do without ID?”
“Oh. Add document fraud, forgery, and computer hacking to my list of crimes.”
“Gogi . . . stop. Run away and don’t come back.”
He took another deep breath. “I found Uncle Gustav last summer.”
A long silence . . .
“In two and a half years, he’ll look . . . normal.”
A cackle from Lady Alia, “Oh, my. I need to live long enough to see him walk through the front door.”
A snicker from Old Yuri. “Does that Orgy drug cure old age?”
Gogi shrugged. “Not a clue, the Cyborgs have all been in their forties. Gustav’s forty-three. Looks pretty good. Just a bit frustrated, one armed, for now.”
Dietrich put both hands over his face. “My great grandson, the Cross-World Felon. Gogi . . . you really ought to leave before Ernst hunts you down.”
“Yes, sir.” Gogi took a tiny vial out of his pocket. “Dilute it in a whole lot of wine. Lock yourselves up until you get a grip on the aphrodisiac effect.” He set the vial down and walked away.
Straight to the sports car. Left quickly and headed for the overnight station.
Spotted a young man walking down the street. Hunched, tired, cold. Not dressed for the weather. Pulled over. “Need a ride?”
“Sure. Not that it matters. They’ll find me.”
“Family problems?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m leaving and can’t take this car with me. You know how to drive?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Signed transfer papers are in there. Anyone asks, just say this weird kid gave it to you.”
“Uh . . . why can’t you take it with you?”
Gogi pulled into the fueling station. “Fill it.” Handed a card over.
“I’m driving my other vehicle to Solzhenitsyn and then T3 Boreal. They’ve got a labor shortage, and tend to not ask too many questions.”
“Yeah, right. All I know is cleaning a big house and doing laundry.” The kid slumped.
“Sounds like a hotel might hire you.”
“Yeah . . .”
“I can point you at one, tell them I said they might hire you, or might point you at a resort that might.”
“And . . . you are doing this, why?”
“Been there. And I do a lot of odd stuff.” Gogi grinned, and drove around to his RV. “Just follow me . . . Actually . . . I should do a little more rescuing, as long as I’m here . . .”
He pulled out his computer and brought up the Board. Searched for women 18-30 years old. I can fix bad grow-ins . . .
But the prices were sky-high, with no new zivvy and the unreliable old zivvy very expensive.
But there were a lot of unchipped younger women for sale, cheap . . .