CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A cab would have been a nuisance for us to track down, requiring calls and time checks. A private car might have lost us the trail completely.
But then, this was supposed to be easy for us. As I’d already anticipated, Venikel and Tirano stayed on foot.
We’d been following their trail for about twenty minutes, and had entered a compact warehouse district, when Selene abruptly stopped. “No,” she breathed. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” I asked, my eyes darting everywhere. Like the spaceport, this part of the city seemed largely deserted at the moment. Perfect place for an ambush.
“Burned flesh,” she murmured. “I smell burned flesh.”
I huffed out a sigh. And there was only one weapon I knew of that could do enough of that kind of damage for Selene to pick it up from this distance. “Where?” I asked.
She pointed to a small warehouse. “That one, or the one behind it.”
“Okay,” I said, taking her arm and pulling her gently away. “Go back to the Ruth and do whatever cleansing you need to. Kreega and I can handle this.”
“Are you sure?” Selene asked, her pupils making it clear that she very much wanted me to be sure.
“Yes,” I assured her. “Go on. I’ll be there soon.”
“All right.” She looked at me with a mix of pain, revulsion, and guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “Just go.”
I watched until she was out of sight. Then, turning back toward the suspect building, I pulled out my phone and keyed in the emergency number.
Kreega and her badgemen had been through a lot already this week. With five murders and a minor cultural upheaval on their hands, they probably thought things were as bad as they could get.
They were about to find out that things could always get worse.
* * *
Kreega and about half her force came in response to my call. Only Zilor and the detective-sergeant herself were able to make it all the way to the crime scene without having to drop out from the horrific stench.
“You might have warned us,” Kreega muttered as we gazed at the charred remains of what had once been a living being. The tone of her voice made it clear she was breathing through her mouth.
“I did tell you it was probably a corona weapon,” I reminded her. “But I’ll admit that the reality far outstrips the theory.” I waved at the warehouse’s high windows. “And the closed windows don’t help.”
“Any idea who it is?” Zilor managed. Obviously holding onto his lunch with everything he had; also obviously determined to stick it out as long as his chief did.
I took a few steps closer to the corpse, noting the wisps of smoke still drifting off it. I wasn’t any less affected by the sight and smell than Kreega and Zilor, but I had the dubious advantage of at least having smelled it before. “It’s not Tirano,” I said, a small piece of my brain making a note to call Selene with that news as soon as I could. “Too tall and not thin enough. From what I can see of the skeleton and joints, I’d say we’re looking at what’s left of a Patth.”
“A Patth?” Kreega echoed.
“Is it Galfvi?” Zilor asked.
“Could be,” I said. “I only saw Galfvi the one time, and didn’t get a clear estimate of height or build. More likely it’s either Kiolven or Venikel. Or possibly someone from that Patth ship might have come ashore before it left.”
“If not that particular ship, maybe someone from one of the two cargo ships that landed in Quisivoa last night,” Kreega said. “Or the one that landed in Porsto this morning.” She gave me a wan smile. “What, you don’t think I keep an eye on what’s happening on my world?”
“I should have known you would,” I said, inclining my head to her. “Thanks for the reminder not to underestimate you.”
“You’re welcome.” She nodded toward the corpse. “So what do we do now? Not much left for an autopsy.”
“Which I gather is the reason the Patth like having their Iykam friends use them,” I said. “Makes the victim much harder to identify, not to mention destroying most of the usual evidence markers.”
“But it could be Galfvi?” Zilor persisted.
“I already said I can’t tell,” I said, frowning as I took a few more steps. The center of the corpse’s chest . . .
“Something?” Kreega prodded.
“Not sure,” I said. “There’s an area in the center of the chest that looks . . . ” I hesitated, but there really was no tactful way to say it. “That looks sort of twice-baked.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” Kreega said. “Like he’d first been shot with a plasmic?”
“Or possibly with a firearm at close range,” I said. “Though those would have to be very impressive propellant burns to show up against a corona blast.”
“So the killer took the second shot just to destroy the evidence?”
“I can’t think of any other reason,” I said. In point of fact, there were at least two other explanations I could think of for wanting to finish off the victim with a corona weapon. But that wasn’t something I wanted to get into right now. “Regardless, an autopsy should at least be able to tell whether he was killed with a plasmic or a slug weapon.”
“We’ll get that started right away,” Kreega said, pulling out her phone. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“You mean about the crime scene?”
“Or about where you and Selene have been all day.”
I turned back to her. Most of her face was occupied with not being sick, but there was enough left over to hold some dark suspicion. “You’re joking,” I said.
“Am I?” she countered. “You seem to know a lot about these corona weapons and the people who use them. More than anyone else around here knows.”
Briefly, I considered informing her about Expediter Huginn and his gang of portal-hunters out in the forest. Huginn knew way more about corona weapons than I ever would, not to mention being able to commandeer the Iykam guards from those three Patth ships Kreega had mentioned.
But unless I could trot Huginn out in front of her as Exhibit One, bringing up his name would just sound like more convenient excuses.
“I need to get back to the Ruth,” I said. “I need to see if Selene’s all right. Can we talk about our day later?”
“I suppose,” Kreega said, that look still on her face. “But let’s not make it too much later. Say, in an hour?”
It would take them longer than that to process the crime scene, I knew. But Kreega didn’t seem in the mood for logical arguments. “I’ll try,” I said.
“Make it a really good try,” Kreega said. “Badgeman Zilor will drive you back to the spaceport.”
“That’s okay,” I said, waving Zilor back. “You might need him here. I can walk.”
“I said Badgeman Zilor will drive you.”
I wanted to glare at her, but it just wasn’t worth the effort. “Fine. If you insist.”
“I insist,” Kreega said. “Badgeman?”
“Yes, Detective-Sergeant,” Zilor said. “This way, Mr. Roarke.”
“In an hour,” Kreega reminded me as we headed toward the warehouse door.
I nodded tiredly. “In an hour. Or as soon afterward as I can.”
* * *
Selene was waiting for me in the Ruth’s dayroom, having dumped her clothing, showered off the scent of the burned Patth, and cleared out her lungs in the ship’s clean room. “How are you doing?” I asked from just outside the hatchway. “Do I need to shower this smell off?”
“You’re all right for now,” she said. “The rain you came through washed enough of it off.”
“Okay,” I said, entering the dayroom and crossing to the pantry. I’d never gotten around to eating any of the provisions I’d brought to the portal, and was suddenly ravenous. “Let me know if that changes.”
“I’m all right,” she said. “Did you find out . . . ?”
“One of the Patth,” I told her. “From what I could see of the facial bone structure I’m guessing it was Venikel.”
“The hot badge half of their hot badge/cold badge routine.”
“Right, though if those were just the roles they were playing it might not mean anything about their personalities,” I pointed out as I selected a package of cheese pasta and put it in the cooker.
“My point was that even if Venikel was playing a part, he might have overplayed it, or played it to the wrong person.”
“That’s certainly possible,” I agreed. “You’d think he’d have learned to read his audience well enough to modify his act when necessary, but we’ve both seen people essentially talk themselves into getting shot.”
“Which leads to the question of who shot him.”
“Well, for starters it was someone with access to a corona weapon,” I pointed out. “That drastically limits our list of suspects.”
“Unless the killer took it from Venikel.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid. Or maybe just tired. With me, that tended to go hand in hand. “Yes, that’s probably it. I don’t remember seeing him carrying one, but those robes of theirs could hide a small arsenal. It would certainly be the handiest corona weapon for the killer to get to. Oh, and before he was charred he was shot with a plasmic.”
“Interesting,” Selene said, disgust in her pupils. “So the follow-up shot was simply to destroy evidence?”
“Or to delay identification of the victim,” I said. The cooker pinged, and I pulled out my meal. “But probably to wipe the evidence. Sorry—did you want something?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I ate on the shuttle.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling off the cover and digging in. “Speaking of the shuttle, Kreega wants us down at the station in an hour to tell her all about our day.” I waved at her with my spoon. “So the admiral’s not happy?”
“The admiral’s quietly furious,” Selene admitted, her pupils wincing. “I think it’s mostly because of my petition.”
I stared at her. “Seriously? I assumed that was just him delivering someone else’s grump at us.”
“If it was, it was a grump he mostly agreed with,” she said. “He’s already ordered Maijo off Alainn, and said we were—”
“Wait—he pulled our backup?” I interrupted. “What if we need help?”
“I asked him that,” she said, her pupils going a little bitter. “He told me we wouldn’t need any, because as soon as the Ruth was back together we’re to leave Alainn.”
“What if someone from the Commonwealth needs us to testify about the Loporri?”
“I assume he doesn’t care.”
Or he did care, but in the exact opposite direction. If Selene’s petition got bogged down in the process or the bureaucracy, the Loporri and Vrinks could slip back into their former non-sapient status. Apparently, none of the shadowy figures above the admiral would be upset if that happened. “Well, luckily, the mechanics out there seem to be taking their time,” I said. “Besides, we have five murders to solve.”
“Six.”
“Oh. Right,” I agreed, scowling into my pasta. I really was tired. “The admiral have anything else to say?”
“No,” Selene said. “But I had the impression that if we’d found a working portal he might have been more willing to support us on the Loporr situation.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. The portal was probably worth a lot more than the illicit silver-silk trade to whoever was above Graym-Barker in the food chain. But without the portal to balance their books, all they saw was the crater Selene’s petition had made in their overall profit margins.
And suddenly, working for Graym-Barker and the Icarus Group looked less like a noble task and more like we were a minor footnote on someone’s personal accounting sheet.
My phone vibed. I pulled it out, wincing at the ID. “It’s Kreega,” I told Selene as I keyed it on. “Good evening, Detective-Sergeant,” I said. “Sorry, I’m running a little late.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m calling to tell you not to bother coming in until tomorrow.”
I frowned. “Trouble?”
“You could say that,” she said, her voice taking on a hint of bitterness. “Bureaucrats from the Commonwealth office in Quisivoa have dropped in to interview all of us about our part in the spaceport fracas where your Ylpea friends got themselves slaughtered.”
“Not really my friends,” I said. “I also understood the slaughter only happened because they ignored the Marines’ order to surrender.”
“It did, they did, and we have recordings,” Kreega said sourly. “Doesn’t mean the bureaucrats are just going to accept that. I’ll let you know when you can come and talk to me about where you and Selene went today. Try to keep those memories fresh.”
“Don’t worry,” I promised. “We’ll be ready when you are.”
I keyed off. “You heard?” I asked Selene.
She nodded, her pupils troubled. “Do you suppose they’ll want me to testify, too?”
“They might,” I said. “Not about the shoot-out—we weren’t there—but possibly about the evidence I assume you listed in your petition.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Do you suppose . . . ?”
“I never suppose anything when it comes to bureaucrats,” I said. “Double that if they’re government bureaucrats. Depends on whether the Commonwealth reps here are for your petition or against it.”
“From the way the admiral was talking, I assume most are against it.”
“Possibly,” I conceded. “But in this game that’s less important than you might think. As my father used to say, When it comes to political battles, the only numbers that matter are those of the rungs everyone’s standing on. Someone who wants their name in the Visionaries List in the history books might well be willing to buck an overall trend, especially if he or she doesn’t have a financial stake in the outcome. We’ll just have to wait and see which way the people with the heavy-duty lungs decide to make the wind blow.”
Selene lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Gregory. I just wanted justice for the Loporri. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “I don’t mind making trouble if it’s the right kind of trouble.”
“But this is trouble with the Commonwealth,” Selene said. “We know how to deal with criminals and badgemen. But bureaucrats don’t make any sense to me.”
“Oh, they’re easy enough,” I assured her. “Really. It’s just a matter of playing along and finding out which answers they want. After that, all you have to do is make your answers sound enough like those until they’re too deep in agreement with you to get out without looking foolish. As my father used to say, Give a man enough rope, and he’ll waste hours trying to untangle it.”
I frowned suddenly. Rope. Hadn’t Selene had some point about rope earlier?
She had. She’d wondered aloud why the intruder at the portal had pulled up the rope instead of just cutting it and letting it fall mockingly at my feet.
I hadn’t had an answer then, and I still didn’t. Pulling up twenty meters of rope didn’t require huge amounts of physical prowess, but it still took more time and effort than a simple slash with a knife. Not to mention he’d had to deal with the knot I’d put in at the tree end.
The obvious answer was that he wanted the rope for something. But what? What made this rope so special that it wouldn’t be easier to just go to the store and buy one for himself?
I smiled tightly. “Because he couldn’t go to the store,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Selene asked.
“I said because he couldn’t go to the store and get a rope of his own,” I said. Suddenly, all the pieces seemed to be falling together in my head.
“I need you to do a search for me,” I said, standing up and crossing to the pantry, my dinner suddenly forgotten. Most of our limited collection of office supplies were in one of the drawers in my cabin, but I was pretty sure I’d seen a pen and pad of paper in here.
“What do you need?” she asked, pulling out her info pad.
There they were. “Remember us talking with Zilor about Narchner songs?” I asked as I scooped up the pen and pad and headed back to the table. “There’s one in particular I need to track down. Just start with some kind of list, and we’ll narrow it down from there.”
“Got it,” she said, eyeing the paper and pen curiously. “What are you going to do?”
“Write a note,” I said. “A very long, very detailed note.”
* * *
Detective-Sergeant Kreega answered on the fourth vibe. “Roarke?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Did I wake you?”
“That’s all right—I had to get up and answer the phone anyway,” she said sarcastically. “This had better be good.”
“It is,” I said. “How would you like to go someplace interesting tomorrow morning and get away from the bureaucrats?”
“Only if I can sell my absence to them afterward,” she said. “Does this interesting place of yours fit that bill?”
“I think it will,” I said. “Oh, and we’ll need to take your car. That all right?”
“Does this trip qualify as official badgeman business?”
“Very much so,” I said. “How does six o’clock sound?”
“Like an hour before my alarm goes off,” she said. “Still waiting for the punch line here.”
“Punch line enabled,” I said. “I’m expecting that Selene and I will be able to hand over a murderer.”
There was a brief silence. “If this is a joke, stop waiting for me to laugh,” Kreega warned.
“It’s no joke,” I assured her. “An early morning, a short trip, and we’ll deliver you a murderer.”
I pursed my lips, running through the logic and my list. Most of the pieces were in place, anyway. There were still a couple that I should probably track down. “And if we’re lucky,” I added, “we might be able to deliver two of them.”
“All right, you sold me,” Kreega said. “Six o’clock at the Ruth. I’ll be there.”
“Two of them?” Selene asked after I keyed off. “There are two different murderers?”
“Actually, I think there are three,” I told her. “Though one might have been self-defense.” I scowled at the remains of my dinner, long since gone cold while we’d been working. Another minute in the cooker, and I could finish it off and try to get some of that sleep I was so sorely behind on. I had enough of the pieces to make my case. Really I did.
But I didn’t have all of them. And in this case, those missing pieces could make all the difference in the world. “And much as I hate to say it, we still have one more job this evening,” I said as I stood up.
“Do you need me?” Selene asked.
I winced. She was as tired as I was, maybe even more so. “Well . . . ”
“I understand.” She stood up and headed for the dayroom hatch. “I’ll get my jacket.”