"Graff told me some of the outrageous things you did," said Carlotta. "Climbing through the air ducts to eavesdrop. Breaking into the computer system."
"But they caught me."
"Not as soon as they'd like to have caught you. And were you punished? No. Why? Because you were rich."
"Money and talent aren't the same thing."
"That's because you can inherit money that was earned by your ancestors," said Sister Carlotta. "And everybody recognizes the value of money, while only select groups recognize the value of talent."
"So where does Peter live?"
She had the addresses of all the Wiggin families. There weren't many--the more common spelling had an s at the end. "But I don't think this will help us," said Carlotta. "We don't want to meet him at home."
"Why not?"
"Because we don't know whether his parents are aware of what he's doing or not. Graff was pretty sure they don't know. If two foreigners come calling, they're going to start to wonder what their son is doing on the nets."
"Where, then?"
"He could be in secondary school. But given his intelligence, I'd bet on his being in college." She was accessing more information as she spoke. "Colleges colleges colleges. Lots of them in town. The biggest first, the better for him to disappear in . . ."
"Why would he need to disappear? Nobody knows who he is."
"But he doesn't want anyone to realize that he spends no time on his schoolwork. He has to look like an ordinary kid his age. He should be spending all his free time with friends. Or with girls. Or with friends looking for girls. Or with friends trying to distract themselves from the fact that they can't find any girls."
"For a nun, you seem to know a lot about this."
"I wasn't born a nun."
"But you were born a girl."
"And no one is a better observer of the folkways of the adolescent male than the adolescent female."
"What makes you think he doesn't do all those things?"
"Being Locke and Demosthenes is a fulltime job."
"So why do you think he's in college at all?"
"Because his parents would be upset if he stayed home all day, reading and writing email."
Bean wouldn't know about what might make parents upset. He'd only known his parents since the end of the war, and they'd never found anything serious to criticize about him. Or maybe they never felt like he was really theirs. They didn't criticize Nikolai much, either. But . . . more than they did Bean. There simply hadn't been enough time together for them to feel as comfortable, as parental, with their new son Julian.
"I wonder how my parents are doing."
"If anything was wrong, we would have heard," said Carlotta.
"I know," said Bean. "That doesn't mean I can't wonder."
She didn't answer, just kept working her desk, bringing new pages into the display. "Here he is," she said. "A nonresident student. No address. Just email and a campus box."
"What about his class schedule?" asked Bean.
"They don't post that."
Bean laughed. "And that's supposed to be a problem?"
"No, Bean, you aren't going to crack their system. I can't think of a better way for you to attract attention than to trip some trap and get a mole to follow you home."