Torch Singer's plans are challenged by the Company.

Singer is working in his office when the Computer interrupts him.
“Good morning Mr. Singer. I must inform you that surveillance of your primary team has just been destroyed.”
“How?”
“Electromagnetic pulse.”
“Replay me the footage from just before we lost them.”
Singer sits back in his chair as the small holographic screen he was using moves back, expanding as it goes. The half finished report on-screen disappears, replaced by a shot of the Ampersand Hospital, the Councillor’s room highlighted in the bottom right corner. A row of green text along the top of the image gives the time and identifies the footage as being shot from a security device affixed to Ascent Shaft Driver #4.
“Expand Lebanon’s room,” he says, watching as the image complies, becoming slightly grainy. Id is visible standing next to Clover’s bed.
“Run it.”
Singer watches impassively as Id chats, looks out the window - almost directly at Singer - talks to Reg, helps Agaric push Clover’s bed away from the window. Reg swings the chair, but then moves too far back into the room to be seen.
After the window breaks Singer has a brief glimpse of Reg as he throws his homemade e-bomb. As it begins to descend the bomb explodes in a bright light that sprays a wall of static across the screen.
Singer shuts off the screen and sits, rubbing absently at the place where the metal in his jaw meets the skin of his face.
“Did the explosion affect that driver the camera was mounted on?” he says suddenly.
“The blast destroyed Driver #4. The sudden feedback shut down 2 other drivers and depleted the output of the remaining 3 by approximately 40%.”
Singer laughs in appreciation.
“Registered certainly absconds in style does he not? Casualties?”
“160 at present. 30 confirmed dead.”
“It’s time I got down there,” he says, standing, but the door does not open when he approaches.
“I’m sorry, Torch, some of the directors are questioning your handling of this operation.”
“Then assure them that I know exactly what I am doing.”
“Nevertheless.”
“You’re going to keep me locked in here?”
The AI is silent. Singer kicks the door savagely.
“Then I appeal to the Company Charter. I must be allowed to handle this.”
The AI’s voice changes, gaining resonance as it diverts its attention from some of the thousands of tasks that occupy it, focussing. “Who do you nominate to second your appeal, Torch Singer?”
Singer names his second.
“Please wait.” There is silence, then:
“Confirmed.”
“Now let me out of here.”
“The directors wish to advise you that you have 5 hours grace, after which there will be a full accounting.”
“Fine. That’s all I’ll need.”