Atlanta.
They exchanged brief formal hugs and cheek kisses in the usual Rizome style. "Where are the bankers?" Laura said.
Emerson nodded at the Rastaman and his companion. Laura's heart sank. "That's them?"
"These offshore bankers don't follow our standards," Em- erson said, watching them.
Laura said, "Do you realize who that woman is? The group she's with?"
"Church of Ishtar," Emerson said. She didn't look happy about it. She glanced up into Laura's face. "We haven't told you all we should yet, for reasons of discretion. But I know you're not naive. You have good Net connections, Laura.
You must know how things stand in Grenada."
"I know Grenada's a data haven," Laura said cautiously.
She wasn't sure how far to go.
Debra Emerson had once been a high muckety-muck at the
CIA, back when there had been a CIA and its muckety-mucks were still in vogue. Security work had no such glamor nowa- days. Emerson had the look of someone who had suffered in silence, a sort of translucency around the eyes. She favored gray corduroy skirts and longsleeve blouses in meek beiges and duns.
The old Rastaman shambled over, smiling. "Winston
Stubbs," he said. He had the lilt of the Caribbean, softened vowels broken by crisp British consonants. He shook Laura's hand. "And Sticky Thompson, Michael Thompson that is."
He turned. "Sticky!"
Sticky came up, his arm around the Church girl's waist.
"I'm Laura Webster," Laura said.
"We know," Sticky said. "This is Carlotta."
"I'm their liaison," Carlotta drawled brightly. She pushed her hair back with both hands and Laura glimpsed an ankh tattooed on her right wrist. "Y'all bring much luggage? I got a van waiting."
"I-and-I have business up-the-island," Stubbs explained. "We be in to your Lodge later this night, call you on the Net, seen?"
Emerson broke in. "If that's the way you want it, Mr.
Stubbs. "
Stubbs nodded. "Later." The three of them left, calling a luggage trolley.
Laura watched them go, nonplussed. "Are they supposed to be running around loose?"
Emerson sighed. "It's a touchy situation. I'm sorry you were brought here for nothing, but it's just one of their little gestures." She tagged the strap of her heavy shoulder bag.
"Let's call a cab."
After their arrival, Emerson vanished upstairs into the Lodge's conference room. Usually, Laura and David ate in the dining room, where they could socialize with the guests. That night, however, they joined Emerson and ate in the tower, feeling uneasily conspiratorial.
David set the ' table. Laura opened a covered tray of chile rellenos and Spanish rice. David had health food.
"I want to be as open and straightforward with you as I possibly can," Emerson murmured. "By now, you must have realized the nature of your new guests."
"Yes," David said. He was far from happy about it.
"Then you can understand the need for security. Naturally we trust the discretion-of you and your staff."
David smiled a little. "That's nice to know."
Emerson looked troubled. "The Committee has been plan- ning this meeting for some time. These Europeans you've been sheltering are no ordinary bankers. They're from the
EFT Commerzbank of Luxembourg. And tomorrow night a third group arrives. The Yung Soo Chim Islamic Bank of
Singapore. "
David paused with a fork halfway to his mouth. "And they're also-?"
"Data pirates, yes."
"I see," Laura said. She felt a sudden surge of chilly excitement. "This is big."
"Very," Emerson said. She let that sink in for a while.
".We offered them any of six possible locations for the meet- ing. It could just as easily have been the Valenzuelas in
Puerto Vallarta. Or the Warburtons in Arkansas."
"How long do you expect this to last?" David said.
"Five days. Maybe a week at the outside." She sipped her iced tea. "It's up to us to supply airtight security once the meeting is under way. You understand? Locked doors, drawn curtains. No running in and out. "
David frowned. "We'll need supplies. I'll tell Mrs. Delrosario."
"I can take care of supplies."
"Mrs. Delrosario's very particular about where she shops,"
David said.
"Oh, dear," said Ms. Emerson sincerely. "Well, groceries are not a major problem." She picked carefully at the skin of her stuffed pepper. "Some of the attendees may bring their own food."
David was stunned. "You mean they're afraid to eat our food? They think we'll poison them, is that it?"
"David, it's a sign of their great trust in Rizome that the three banks have agreed to meet here in the first place. It's not us that they distrust. It's one another."
David was alarmed. "What exactly are we getting into?
We have a small child here! Not to mention our staff."
Emerson looked hurt. "Would you feel better if this Lodge was full of armed guards from Rizome? Or if Rizome even had armed guards? We can't confront these people by force, and we shouldn't try to. That's our strength."
Laura spoke up. "You're saying that because we're harm- less, we won't be hurt."
"We want to reduce tension. We don t mean to arrest these pirates, prosecute them, crush them. We've decided to nego- tiate. That's a modern solution. It worked for the arms race, after all. It has been working for the Third World."
"Except for Africa," David said.
Emerson shrugged. "It's a long-term effort. The old East-
West Cold War, the North-South struggle... those were both old fights. Struggles we inherited. But now we face a truly modem challenge. This meeting is part of it."
David looked surprised. "Come on. These aren't nuclear arms talks. I've read about these havens. They're fleabag pirates. Sleazy rip-off artists who won't pull their own weight in the world. So they call themselves bankers, so they wear three-piece suits. Hell, they can fly private jets and shoot boars in the forests of Tuscany. They're still cheap rip-off bastards. "
"That's a very correct attitude," Emerson said. "But don't underestimate the havens. So far, as you say, they're only parasites. They steal software, they bootleg records arid vid- eos, they invade people's privacy. Those are annoyances, but it's not yet more than the system can bear. But what about the potential? There are potential black markets for genetic engi- neering, organ transplants, neurochemicals... a whole gal- axy of modern high-tech products. Hackers loose in the Net are trouble enough. What happens when a genetic engineer cuts one corner too many?"
David shuddered. "Well, that can't be allowed."
"But these are sovereign national governments," said Em- erson. "A small Third World nation like Grenada can profit by playing fast and loose with new technologies. They may well hope to become a center of innovation, just as the
Cayman Islands and Panama became financial centers. Regu- lation is a burden, and multinationals are always tempted to move out from under it What happens to Rizome.. if our competitors evade the rules, offshore?"
She let them mull over that for a while. "And there are deeper questions that affect the whole structure of the modern world. What happens when tomorrow's industries are pion- eered by criminals? We live on a crowded planet, and we need controls, but they have to be tight. Otherwise corruption seeps in like black water.
"It's a tough agenda," David said, thinking it over. "In fact, it sounds hopeless."
"So did the Abolition," said Emerson. "But the arsenals are gone." She smiled. The same old line, Laura thought.
The old baby-boom generation had been using it for years.
Maybe they thought it would help explain why they were still running everything. "But history never stops_ Modern society faces a new central crisis. Are we going to control the path of development for sane, human ends? Or is it going to be laissez-faire anarchy?"