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Chapter Fifteen

With three-plus hours to pass, Isaac decided to hold a second interview with Melody Quang. Cephalie analyzed the previous interview and cross-checked it with the new evidence in their possession, but she didn’t find any places where Quang outright lied. Despite her unethical behavior, Isaac couldn’t charge her with any crimes that would stick in court.

At least, not yet.

Cephalie scheduled the meeting, and they met once more at the Trinh Syndicate factory an hour later.

“Nice to see you again, Detective, Agent,” Quang said after everyone had settled into their seats in the same conference room as before. Isaac would have preferred to question her at the precinct, depriving her of the home turf advantage and any comfort that might bring her, but if Quang was involved, then an aggressive move like that would tip her off, and she’d clam up, invoking her legal rights to impede his investigation.

If Quang had used the Ōdachi alias to order the Fanged Wyverns around, then she knew her relationship with Delacroix might get out. The police raid on the gang hangout would be public knowledge. But she didn’t know he knew, and that ambiguity might present an opening he could tease new information out of.

He would need to tread carefully.

“What brings you here today?” Quang asked. “Is everything going well?”

“I have a few follow-up questions I’d like you to answer.”

“Of course. I’m at your service, though your IC was lucky to call when she did. I fly out to Titan in a few hours. Anyway, how can I help?”

“I’d like to start with the impeller remains the Trinh Syndicate purchased.” Isaac checked his notes. “Did you ever speak with Delacroix about the impeller?”

“Yes.”

He looked up, surprised by her direct answer. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

“Once or multiple times?” he continued.

“Multiple.”

“Did you discuss the impeller’s test results?”

“Yes.”

“Did you discuss the sale of the impeller to Trinh?”

“Yes.”

“Did you—”

“Detective, I appreciate you’re trying to do your job,” she began, her tone icier than before, “but why don’t we get the obvious out of the way. Yes, Delacroix and I were in a sexual relationship.” She spread her hands. “There you go.”

Isaac watched his only advantage fly out the figurative window.

“You didn’t mention that fact in our last meeting.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Not quite,” Isaac countered. “I asked about the nature of your relationship with Delacroix, and you told me he was sad. I’d characterize that as a dodge.”

“The important part is I never lied to you. It’s not my fault you didn’t follow up your original question.” She smirked at him. “You’re the detective here, not me.”

“Then describe the nature of your relationship with Delacroix,” Isaac said firmly. “In very clear words.”

“We would occasionally meet up and have sex.” She raised an eyebrow. “Clear enough for you, Detective? Or would you like me to describe his favorite positions?”

“Was he in love with you?”

“How should I know? I’m not a mind reader.”

“Did he ever say he loved you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him you loved him?”

“Yes.”

“Were you in love with him?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Isaac frowned, but Quang simply smiled back at him.

“Did you tell Delacroix to fail the impeller?”

“No.”

“Then it was his idea?”

“I would assume so. Again, not a mind reader.”

“Do you know why he failed the impeller?”

“Not for certain.”

“Why do you think he did it, then?”

“To impress me.” Her eyes twinkled, and she flashed a half smile. “He was showing off. Demonstrating the power he held over one of our competitors. He knew we could use the exotic matter, so perhaps it was intended as a gift as well. I simply took advantage of the opportunity.”

“And you saw no problems with that?”

“I saw no legal problems. The impeller did fail, and Delacroix’s actions fell within the contractual arrangement between Negation and Gordian. Furthermore, he wasn’t the senior member of Gordian on site, Andover-Chen was, and he could have overruled Delacroix.” Quang leaned back and crossed her legs. “But he didn’t.”

“What about moral problems?” Susan asked, speaking up for the first time in the interview.

“What about them?”

“Delacroix had just lost his wife unexpectedly,” Susan pressed. “One might assume he was in a vulnerable state.”

“And did I take advantage of that vulnerability? Absolutely. But morality isn’t your jurisdiction, is it? If I want to be lectured on morality and religion, I have colleagues who were once Numbers. They’ll talk my ears off about it. You two, however, should only be concerned with the legality of what I did, and there is nothing illegal about any of this. I’m free to sleep with any consenting man I choose, and Delacroix was very consenting. Just as I’m free to take advantage of a competitor’s misfortune, which is all the failed impeller amounts to.”

Quang leaned back in her chair with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You should have come forth with this information in our first meeting,” Isaac said. “The fact that you didn’t casts a cloud of doubt over your actions.”

“Oh, I’m sure it does.” Her eyes laughed at him. “But do I look worried to you?”

“You will need to register any travel plans with SysPol for the foreseeable future.”

“As I said, I’m flying out to Titan later today. I’ll be staying in Promise City for a few days’ worth of meetings, then I’m coming straight back here. Will that suffice, or do I need to fill out some tedious forms?”

“That’s sufficient.”

“And is there anything else you’re curious about, Detective?” Quang tilted her head. “Or would you like to hear about those positions?”

“Do you know anything about the murders you’re not telling me?”

“No, Detective. Still don’t have a clue who might have done it. Best of luck to you, there. I think you’re going to need it.”

Isaac paused in thought, trying to come up with a new line of questioning. Despite how forthright she now appeared, he suspected he wasn’t receiving the full story, but however hard he looked, he couldn’t find a crack in her armor. He’d been outplayed by the Trinh manager in a game whose rules he didn’t fully understand, and there was nothing he could do about it but retreat and explore other avenues of investigation.

“That will be all for now,” he said at last.

“Good. Then I believe we’re done here.”

* * *

“Komuso, thank you for coming,” Isaac said, rising from his seat in the NFPD conference room to greet the AC.

“Don’t mention it, Detective. And please, there’s no need to stand.”

Komuso’s avatar wore a long, pale gray robe and what resembled a straw basket over his head. The basket came with a thinner weave across a square at the front, and a pair of green eyes glowed within the shadowed recesses. Isaac wondered if the AC had even bothered to model a head underneath the basket.

Komuso waited for Isaac and Susan to sit back down, then he conjured a plain wooden chair and seated himself, hands folded in his lap.

“I appreciate you transmitting in on such short notice,” Isaac said.

“To be honest, I’m still in shock over the news. Breaking up with Joachim was hard enough, but now this.” He shook his basket head, eyes dimming. “If there’s anything I can do to help. Anything at all, I’ll aid you without hesitation. Please understand, Detective, I want his murderer brought to justice. I want this very much.”

“Let’s start with some basic questions,” Isaac began. “How long were you and Delacroix integrated?”

“Twenty-eight years. We met at his grandmother’s going meatless party when he was in his early twenties and stayed in touch.”

“Who initiated the integration?”

“He did, though I welcomed the invitation. We both saw how compatible we were, and it turned out we were right.”

“And what was your level of integration?”

“Low. Only sharing surface thoughts.” Komuso raised a hand. “Except for a brief period in his forties. From October 2967 to February 2968. We experimented with a deeper level of integration, but neither of us liked it, and we fell back to our previous arrangement.”

“Tell me about the accident that forced Delacroix into a synthetic body.”

“I don’t think I’m qualified to discuss the accident itself, but the emotional toll on Joachim was high.” Komuso lowered his head. “He wasn’t prepared for the transition and, as is sometimes the case, he began to question the nature of his own existence.”

“Physical Separation Syndrome?” Isaac asked.

“Yes. Doctors prescribed a regimen including a synthoid set to maximum fidelity, which he followed, but the real healing came from Selene. I like to think I did my part, but Selene was the rock he leaned against in moments of weakness.”

“How did Delacroix react to the death of his wife?”

“Poorly. He was on Mycene Station, assisting Doctor Andover-Chen with the c-bomb construction, when the Dynasty attacked the factory cluster. He clung to an irrational hope that search parties would eventually find her, despite the nuclear attack on the factory. I tried to explain to him how infinitesimal her chances were, but he wouldn’t listen.

“In time, he did finally accept her death, though it took weeks. Or, I should say, accepted that she was dead. Selene was…she and Joachim connected in a way he and I never did. I’ve never had much of an interest in science, but the two of them as fellow engineers, well…they were meant for each other. They shared the same interests, the same passions. I’m hesitant to throw out concepts like fate, but for them, I’ll make an exception. They were fated for each other. In a small way, I was jealous of the love they shared. Even after two centuries, I still don’t understand human love as well as I’d like.”

“What led to your separation from Delacroix?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Selene’s death played a part, obviously. Joachim became increasingly distant after her death. I tried to help, but he rebuffed my efforts. Pushed me further and further away. I even suggested we lower our integration level as a means to save our friendship. Drop it to the point where we only shared thoughts when both of us gave active permission, but even that didn’t help.”

“Why not?”

“Joachim wanted to be alone. That much was clear. I didn’t think the solitude would be healthy for him. I wanted to help, but I also wasn’t about to defy his wishes, not after so many good years together. We separated on agreeable—if sad—terms, and I always made sure he knew where to find me. I left Earth after that. I needed the space and spent the time with some old friends living over Venus. That’s where I was when I received word of his death, and I transmitted to Saturn immediately afterward.”

“Did Delacroix ever contact you after you separated?”

“No.” Komuso sighed. “I wish he had, though.”

“Did he ever mention Melody Quang to you?”

“No, sorry. The name’s not familiar to me.”

“Did he discuss the impeller construction at Negation Industries with you?”

“No, but that’s not unusual.”

“Why not?”

“We rarely talked shop. That was always him and Selene, and I would politely leave them to it. They loved to get technical with each other, often spending the night debating the merits of one approach or another, delving into all manner of esoteric details before…”

“Before what?”

“Before their dialogue became…flirty.”

“Ah.”

“They both found smart to be sexy, and I’d slip out whenever the double entendres started showing up.” Komuso shrugged. “Organics and their glands. What can you do about them?”

“Do you know of anyone who wanted either Delacroix or Andover-Chen killed or any reasons why someone might benefit from their deaths?”

“No, sorry. Wish I did, though.” Komuso adjusted the basket over his head. “Feels like I haven’t been much help.”

Isaac glanced to Susan, who shook her head to indicate she didn’t have any questions.

“Thank you for your time, Komuso. That’ll be all for now. We’ll be in touch if we need anything in the future.”

* * *

Andover-Chen arrived in the Saturn State almost an hour before Komuso, but his connectome transmitted only as far as Kronos Station. The scientist had been unwilling to transmit directly to Janus-Epimetheus, so a SysPol corvette flew him down to the New Frontier Airport, and the delay placed his interview last in Isaac’s schedule.

The short synthoid stepped into the NFPD conference room, snug in a Gordian Division uniform while ghostly equations shifted under the black, glassy skin of his face. He struck Isaac as a man of competing emotions: on one hand, he strode in with the confidence of one used to commanding the respect of those around him, and on the other hand, Isaac saw hints of timidity in a man trying to piece his shattered life back together.

“Doctor Andover-Chen, thank you for coming,” Isaac said. “I’m Detective Isaac Cho. This is Agent Susan Cantrell, my deputy, and Encephalon, my IC. Please, if you’ll be seated, we can get started and hopefully not take up too much of your time.”

“What a difference six months can make.” Andover-Chen grinned at Susan as he pulled out his chair and sat down. “Glad to see we’re not at each other’s throats.”

“We’re making progress,” Susan agreed.

“You know, I took an immediate liking to the Admin. From the moment I learned of its existence, I could see the advantages of its stricter laws. Your ‘Restrictions.’ Oh, certainly, Admin culture is rough around the edges here or there; that’s to be expected of any society still pushing through the painful transition to post-scarcity. But the underlying principles—the cautionary approaches to new technology—those I find greatly appealing.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Susan replied. “We think the Restrictions are a smart approach, too.” She paused in thought, then added, “Or most of us do.”

“Doctor, if you don’t mind,” Isaac said, “shall we begin?”

“Yes. Of course, of course.” Andover-Chen sat straight, leaning back against the chairback as confidence eclipsed those subtle hints of a shattered life.

“First, a few baseline questions given your integration level and recent time loss. Would you please identify both connectomes for the record as well as your current integration level?”

“Certainly. I’m comprised of the connectomes for both Matthew Andover and Chen Wang-shu, and I’m a total integration of the two.”

“And do you prefer to be referenced in the singular or plural?”

“Singular, please. And that’s true legally as well. My former selves jumped through all the necessary hurdles to be legally recognized as a new, singular entity. You’re probably aware of this, but I was revived from a single, consolidated connectome with First MindBank, and my death, also, was categorized in the singular.” He leaned back. “So, yes. Singular, it is, if you don’t mind.”

“Describe for us why you chose to integrate.”

“That’s easy. My two minds cover for each other.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“Certainly. Both of us were hired by the Gordian Division shortly after it was formed, and we began working together for the first time in our careers. We knew of each other’s work, of course, and we knew we held similar views on the dangers of time travel. But we’d never collaborated in a professional capacity until we joined Gordian. How to describe the feeling.” Andover-Chen rubbed his chin. “Ah! Yes, of course! Both of us had…gaps.”

“Gaps?”

“Weaknesses in our mental tool kits, you might say. For example, Chen was the true powerhouse when it came to theoretical work, while being a little…scatterbrained? Too easily distracted? Andover, meanwhile, could brute-force his way through just about any problem. But that special spark, that leap of ingenuity Chen could make on a whim, had always eluded him.

“Separate, both were very good at our jobs. We saw the problems with time travel before anyone else did, and we tried to warn everyone. Oh, we tried!” He shook his head sadly. “But those earlier efforts were divided. At Gordian, we saw the synergy, and experimented with a low-level integration. The results were astounding!

“Separate, we were good. Together, I was brilliant! We increased the level of our integration step by step until Andover proposed to Chen a full, unbridled integration.” The doctor spread his hands. “The rest is history.”

“And you feel your integration has been successful?”

“Absolutely! Just look at what we achieved during the Dynasty Crisis!” A crack formed in Andover-Chen’s mask of confidence, and he frowned. “At least, so I’ve been told. It’s strange. You wake up one morning, and suddenly there’s half a year’s worth of actions and repercussions you don’t remember. It’s uncomfortable hearing about exploits I never partook in, especially when they involve the creation of a universe-obliterating superweapon.”

“Does your involvement with the c-bomb bother you?”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. Seems to go against everything I’ve stood for in the past.” He straightened in his seat. “But, as I understand it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if the Gordian Division had failed. I’m sure my other self realized this as well, and I’ll take solace in that. Though…I could have done without the jokes.”

“The jokes?”

“Yes.” The scientist grimaced. “Gordian Division and their time travel jokes. I received a few messages that said ‘Welcome to the Future!’ after I was revived. I didn’t find them funny.”

“Moving on to your colleague, Chief Engineer Joachim Delacroix,” Isaac began. “You recommended him for the post, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Why was that?”

“Because while I have some engineering acumen, I’m most definitely not an engineer. My specialty is more on the theoretical side. Taking those theories and realizing them into physical hardware requires a different approach, a different mindset. That’s where Joachim came into the picture. Though”—he shrugged—“sounds like I branched out with my work on the c-bomb.”

“Why did you select him?”

“Because of his experience at the Antiquities Rescue Trust, TTV impeller enhancements in particular.” Andover-Chen held up both hands. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m no fan of ART, and my public record shows that clearly. But I know a talented mind when I see one. When I made the recommendation, Gordian Division was on the cusp of taking ownership of just about every time machine in SysGov, and we had to modify all of their impellers for transdimensional flight. That’s no easy task, but I felt Delacroix was the right man to lead that effort.”

“And was he?”

“According to my notes, yes.”

“Your notes?” Isaac perked up at the mention.

“Yes, I’m a stickler for writing notes during or after any meeting I’m in.” Andover-Chen smiled sadly. “Turned out to be a good thing in multiple ways, since I’ve been reading through my own personal record for the past six months. Anyway, you’d be surprised how fallible our minds are and how a written record of what was said and agreed to can save so much time and wasted energy.”

“Then, you have notes from your most recent meetings with Delacroix?”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

“Do we have copies already?” Isaac turned to Cephalie.

“Don’t think so,” Cephalie said. “They must not have been stored at his desks or the apartment.”

“Not surprising,” Andover-Chen said. “I would have kept them locally.”

“I’d like a copy of those records,” Isaac said. “If you don’t mind.”

I don’t have a problem with that, but I think some of my notes on the c-bomb are still classified.”

“I’m only interested in any notes that pertain to the impellers being constructed on Janus or conversations you had with Delacroix, at least at the moment. If it turns out I require additional access, access that might be restricted, I’ll submit an official request to Gordian. Does that work for you?”

“It does.” Andover-Chen opened an interface with a long file list and began entering filter parameters.

“There’s no need to provide the files now.”

“No, no. This’ll only take a moment.” His fingers flew over the interface, but then paused. “Hmm? What’s this?”

“Something unusual?”

“Not really.” The physicist frowned at the screen. “It’s a conversation I had with Joachim during our last trip to Janus. We were having a few beers after work. Normally, I wouldn’t take notes on that.”

“Can you tell why you made an exception in this case?”

“Let me see.” He expanded the record. “Ah, there it is. We were talking about temporal replication. That’s why I took notes.”

“Temporal replication?” Isaac asked, and thought for a moment. “That would be the replication process outlawed by the Valkyrie Protocol, correct?”

“That’s right. ‘Temporal replication’ refers to any method where a time machine travels to the past, grabs something, and brings it back to the True Present, essentially replicating that object. ART did quite a lot of that in the form of the antiquities and historical figures it brought to the True Present, although all of ART’s efforts together were nothing compared to the Dynasty’s! They used the same method as the primary engine of their post-scarcity society, and at face value it might seem like a good idea. However!” Andover-Chen raised a stern finger. “The process is not without cost, and it’s the outer wall of our universe that pays it.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

“The atoms of both the replicated object and the original resonate, and this resonance can damage the outer wall of a universe.”

“Outer wall?”

“The barrier between our universe’s 3+1 dimensional parameters and the 6+1 dimensions of the transverse. The barrier between our reality and the connecting fabric of the wider multiverse.”

Isaac felt his brain congealing.

“You see, the resonance impacts upon that transdimensional membrane between a universe and the transverse. And with enough damage”—Andover-Chen made an exploding gesture with both hands—“the wall breaches.”

“Doctor.”

“When that happens, the barrier between two different levels of chronometric energy is gone. It’s like a balloon bursting. Pressure will equalize, either by inrushing from the transverse into the universe, resulting in the implosive destruction of said universe, or expelling outward at a catastrophic rate, resulting in the explosive end of that universe.”

“Doctor?”

“That’s why the Dynasty imploded. Chronometric energy rushed in through the breach caused by the c-bomb, and this inflicted a phase state upon normally inert matter. Inert in a temporal sense, that is. In essence, their present flew back into their past, and the universe’s timeline itself imploded inward.”

“Doctor Andover-Chen?”

“Hmm? Yes? Am I going too fast?” He smiled brightly. “I sometimes have a habit of doing that. I can slow down you if like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Isaac said. “I’m more interested in why Delacroix would raise this topic with you. Do your notes mention why?”

“Let’s see.” Andover-Chen skimmed down the record. “Not really. He had a lot of questions for me, though. Wanted my opinion on a few matters.”

“Such as?”

“He asked me if I ever thought limited temporal replication would be safe in our universe again.”

“But it’s outlawed because it’s so dangerous,” Susan said.

“Well, yes and no,” Andover-Chen explained. “Before the Dynasty Crisis, the SysGov outer wall was in prime health. As I say, ART had replicated a few famous people and artifacts but never approached anything on the scale of the Dynasty. Under those conditions, some limited and regulated replication might be beneficial for our society to explore. For the moment, the process had been completely prohibited. That was before we made the c-bomb, however, and with the fate of our whole universe hanging in the balance, we took some risks.”

“What sort of risks?”

“I…” Andover-Chen hesitated.

“Classified?”

“Let’s just say the Gordian Division was up against the clock and used temporal replication to cheat our way to the finish line. I think that’s what inspired Joachim to think about how the prohibition might ultimately be modified. But we did more damage in a few hours to our outer wall than the Dynasty did to theirs in decades. And that’s the state the outer wall of our universe is in. Bruised. Bleeding. Throbbing. Not fatally; it’ll heal with time, but we need to give it that time, and that’s why the Valkyrie Protocol is so important.”

“Is that the answer you gave Delacroix?”

“More or less. According to my notes, our discussion dug into the details a bit more, but the fundamentals are the same. The SysGov outer wall has a long way to go before we should even think about replication again.”

“Do you know why Delacroix would ask you about this?”

“My notes don’t give a reason, sorry. But I don’t think his question is unusual.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was his role to ask those sorts of questions. As an engineer, you see. ‘Where are the limits?’ and ‘Should we push up against them?’ Just like it’s my role in Gordian to throw up the big warning sign when I see danger ahead.”

“Then you don’t see anything unusual in your notes regarding Delacroix?”

“Not at the moment. Let me take a closer look.”

* * *

Isaac and Susan spent over two hours with Andover-Chen going through his notes on Delacroix, and every last one of them ended with the doctor declaring the engineer’s behavior normal and appropriate. He even defended Delacroix’s decision to take a strict stance on the failed impeller, stating it fell under his authority as chief engineer, even if Andover-Chen didn’t fully agree with the decision.

“Have we accomplished anything today?” Susan asked as they walked out to their car.

“If we did, I missed it,” Isaac grumbled. The car door opened, and he dropped into his seat.

Susan sat down opposite him, and the door closed.

“Top Shelf Hotel,” Isaac ordered.

“Destination set. Departing.”

The car drove out of the NFPD parking lot and merged onto the main Shelf One highway.

“We learned Delacroix was in a dumb relationship,” Susan offered.

“Which he was allowed to be in.”

“And he made a dumb decision about the impeller.”

“Which he was allowed to make.”

“And he asked the doctor some questions about the newest time travel law.”

“Which were perfectly normal for him to ask.”

“Yeah.” Susan crossed her arms and stared at the floor. “It’s been one of those days, huh?”

“Yup.”

Isaac glanced out the window and watched the detritus of New Frontier’s lowest layer pass by.

“Oh, I-saac?” Cephalie asked in a singsong voice.

“Yeah?”

“I have something that might cheer you up.”

He turned back to the small woman standing atop the LENS.

“I’m listening.”

“Check your mail. You have a message from Kronos.”

Isaac gave her a dubious look, but he opened his mail regardless. He checked the title on the newest message and perked up immediately.

“Something good?” Susan asked.

“Possibly.” He forwarded a copy to her. “We have an update from the Ballast Heights forensic report.”

“Better than the nothing we have right now.”

“Too true.” He opened the report and read the abstract. “And they have a vector for the virus!”

Much better than nothing,” Susan said with a smile.

“Vector is a traveling artist named Neon Caravaggio,” Isaac continued.

“Neon?” Susan blinked. “What, as in the noble gas? Are his parents Argon and Xenon? Does he have a little sister named Helium?”

“I know you’re joking,” Isaac said, “but you could be more right than you know. Caravaggio’s registered as a Lunarian, and some of them have very loose ideas for what qualifies as a name. Says here he transmitted out to Titan and then almost immediately transmitted back to Ballast Heights, both shortly before the murders. The forensics team found evidence of the virus in both of his passes through the LifeBeam tower.”

“That could be deliberate,” Susan said. “A quick back-and-forth trip would give him two chances to infect the transceiver.”

“Right.” Isaac highlighted a note in the report. “Though, there’s a warning here from the forensics team. They don’t know if Caravaggio was the origin of the virus or simply a carrier. But you do raise a good point. If he was trying to deploy it, his travel schedule made that easier.”

“What’s this part about forwarding the report to LifeBeam?” Susan asked.

“Standard SysPol procedure to help the company plug their security hole. They need to check with us first before forwarding it.” Isaac clicked the authorization box. “There. No reason to hold out, since the ‘Internal LifeBeam’ angle is dead.”

“But how could a virus on a passenger affect the LifeBeam hardware?” Susan asked. “You’d think they’d have safeguards in place against something like that.”

“You’re right. The report should tell us how it slipped through.” He scrolled down to the analysis of the virus. “Normally, a firewall prevents clients from accessing LifeBeam’s internal infostructure. However, some LifeBeam employees have access to administrative holes in the firewall. The virus jumped from Caravaggio to one employee after another until it found someone with the access it needed. Very sophisticated. And very illegal.”

“How illegal?” Susan asked.

“Just writing a virus like this could result in the death penalty, never mind using it.” He glanced to Cephalie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Maybe. Depends on the judge and jury.”

“Do we know where Caravaggio is?” Susan asked.

“I’m looking for that part right now.” He tabbed over. “Hmm. Whereabouts unknown after returning to Ballast Heights.”

“Suspicious.”

“Quite. Public transportation records show he traveled to the Crystal Falls apartment complex. According to his government file, that’s where he lives, but there’s nothing after that. The forensics team sent SSP to Caravaggio’s apartment, but no one was home. He also didn’t respond to any of their calls.”

“Then he’s gone dark?” Susan speculated.

“Seems that way. I get the impression our colleagues on Kronos didn’t believe he was the origin and wanted to examine his synthoid for more clues. But his activities since paint a different picture. Twice through the tower, and then he vanishes from his apartment and doesn’t respond to calls.”

“Sound like we’ve got ourselves a lead,” Susan said with a smile.

“We do indeed.” He returned the smile then glanced to his IC. “Cephalie, get us a search warrant of Caravaggio’s home and a pair of train tickets. We’re heading back to Ballast Heights.”

“On it!”


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