At All Costs

"Well," Honor said, "I just happened to run into Stacey Hauptman at lunch yesterday, and somehow or other the conversation turned to journalism. And it seems Stacey has been considering venturing into that area for some time. She told me she thinks she might begin by buying the Landing Tattler-just to get her toes wet, you know. Sort of explore the possibilities. And I think she might also have said something about making it her business to-how did she put it? Oh, yes. Making it her business to 'clean up the professionalism of Manticoran journalism generally.'"

"My Lady," Miranda said in quite a different tone, her gray eyes twinkling suddenly. "Oh, that's evil!" she continued with deep satisfaction.

"I never suggested that she take any action whatsoever," Honor said virtuously, "and no one could possibly accuse me or any of my retainers of taking any sort of action, either. I will confess, however, that I find the prospect of Stacey Hauptma

"And you were just suggesting the Grayson press might incorporate a few journalistic constraints."

"Even in the Star Kingdom, Miranda, private citizens-as opposed to governmental agencies or public bodies-are permitted to make their displeasure known, so long as they violate no laws or civil rights. Which, I assure you, Stacey has no intention of doing. Or, now that I think about it, any need to do."

"Oh, of course not, My Lady!"

"I want to know who leaked this, and I want to know yesterday."

Dr. Franz Illescue's voice was flat, almost calm, with a lack of emphasis and exclamation points which rang alarm bells in every member of the Briarwood Reproduction Center's senior staff.

"But, Doctor," Julia Isher, Briarwood's business manager, said cautiously, "so far, we don't really have any evidence it was one of our people who was responsible."

"Don't be stupid, Julia. And let's not pretend I am, either," Illescue said in that same almost-calm tone, and Isher winced.

Franz Illescue could be an unmitigated pain in the ass, and despite the very nearly half-century he'd spent getting the worst of his natural aristocratic arrogance knocked out of him, there would always be that core of implicit superiority. That unassailable knowledge that he was, by the inevitable process of birth and the natural working of the universe, inherently better than anyone around him. Despite that, however-or possibly even because of it-he was normally very careful to observe the rules of courtesy with the "little people" with whom he came into contact. On the rare occasions when he wasn't, it was a very, very bad sign, indeed.

"One of 'our people,' as you put it, most definitely was responsible," he continued after a heartbeat or two. "Whether someone deliberately sold the information to this... this... individual Hayes or not, that information had to come from someone inside the Center. Someone with access to our confidential records. Someone who, if he or she didn't deliberately sell the information was still criminally-and I use the adverb advisedly, in light of our confidentiality agreements with our patients-negligent. Someone who either gossiped about it where he or she shouldn't have or allowed someone else unauthorized access. In either case, I want his-or her-ass. I want it broiled, on a silver platter, with a nice side of fried potatoes, and I intend to see to it that whoever it was never works in this field-or any other branch of the medical profession-in the Star Kingdom again."

More than one of the staffers seated around the huge table blanched visibly. Illescue had still to raise his voice, but the temperature in the conference room seemed to hover within a degree or two of absolute zero Kelvin. Some of those staffers, like Isher herself, had been with Illescue for twenty T-years or more, and they had never seen him this incandescently angry.

"Doctor," Isher said, after a moment, "I've already initiated a review of everyone who had access to Duchess Harrington's records. I assure you we're doing everything we possibly can to determine how that information got out of our files and into Mr. Hayes' hands. But so far our security people, some of whom are very well versed in forensic cybernetics, are coming up completely blank. I asked Tajman Meyers-" Meyers was the Center's head of security, who was absent from this meeting only because he was out personally heading the investigation "-if we need to bring in someone else, like the Landing PD. He says our people are probably as good as most of the LCPD's investigators, but he also agrees that if you want to bring in a completely outside team, he'll cooperate fully."

She met Illescue's hooded, basilisk gaze levelly.

"The truth of the matter is, though, Sir, that we may never be able to identify the individual responsible. As you say, it could have been a case of idle gossip. Or, of course, although I don't like to think any of our people would violate our trust that way, someone could have deliberately handed the information over. In either case, however, my personal feeling is that it was almost certainly done verbally, with no written or electronic record. Which doesn't leave us very much in the way of clues."

Illescue looked at her, eyes cold, his normal, reassuring physician's personality noticeably in abeyance. The fact that he knew she was right only made him still angrier.

"I want a list of every name of every member of our staff who had access to both Duchess Harrington and Countess White Haven's files," he said, after a moment. "Everyone-physicians, nurses, technicians, clerical staff. As a general rule, I don't much care for witch hunts, but I'm going to make an exception in this case." He looked around the conference room and showed his teeth in an expression no one would ever mistake for a smile. " To be perfectly honest, I'm looking forward to it."

"Jesus, Julia," Martijn Knippschd muttered softly as he walked down the hall beside her, "I've never seen him that mad!" He shook his head. "I mean, this is terrible, sure. I agree, and not just because of the way it violates Duchess Harrington's confidentiality. It leaves us covered with crap here at the Center, too. But, let's face it-this really isn't the first time we've had an information leak. And that talk of his about 'witch hunts'-!"

"It isn't just talk, Marty," Isher said, equally quietly. "He means it. And if he does find out who's responsible...."

She shrugged, her expression bleak, and Knippschd shook his head.

"I believe you. I just don't understand why."

Isher looked at him for a moment, clearly considering whether or not to say something more. Dr. Martijn Knippschd was, in many ways, her equivalent on the medical support side of Briarwood's operations. He wasn't one of the Center's partners, but he was directly responsible for overseeing the labs' physical operation and directing the technicians who worked in them. And unless something very unexpected happened, he would be Briarwood's newest junior partner within the next three T-years.

"It's... personal this time," she said finally. "Dr. Illescue has something of a history with the Harringtons."

"I had the impression he'd never met the Duchess before she became a patient," Knippschd objected.

"I didn't say he had a history with her, Marty. He has one with her parents, and it's personal, not professional. I'm not going to go into any details, but suffice it to say that if there are any two physicians in the entire Star Kingdom who he'd crawl across ground glass to avoid giving a reason to fault his professional conduct, it's Alfred and Allison Harrington. Worse, I think he's afraid they may believe he let the information out himself."