Proximity

by Jem Tugwell

  I slumped back against the wall and tried to control my breathing. I needed to get to the safety of my flat and to calm down before my date with Sophia.

  If I’d known what a bad idea that was, I would have run after Winter and begged him to take me there and then.

  40

  Thief

  I was going to attack tonight, but still needed to complete my preparations. The clock in my HUD showed just before five in the afternoon. I had enough time if I didn’t make any mistakes. I walked up to the gleaming metal worktop in the garage and traced shapes over the surface, my fingertips touching with gossamer lightness, caressing it.

  I slid my hand down to a drawer, pulled out a rubber anti-static mat and laid it out on the worktop. Kneeling, I opened my sports bag and carefully extracted the large carbon fibre box. The lid unclipped with two solid clacks and I looked inside.

  My greatest achievement. Much, much harder than a Suppressor. Years and years of my own sweat to finally work out how to get it to work.

  It was much bulkier, but as I didn’t have to wear it, the size didn’t matter. I stroked its outer cover with deep pride, picked it up as if I was handing a sacred relic and put it on the mat.

  I hinged up the top of its shell and looked at the array of circuits and electronics inside, replaying the hundreds of hours spent making it but, in its current state, it was useless. The security encryption for iMe was beyond military grade and impossible to generate a signal without DNA. I allowed myself a smile. After one of our meetings, I had collected the used drinking glasses. They had been waiting in case I needed them.

  Earlier in the afternoon, with diligent and patient work, I had extracted his DNA from the nucleus of the skin cells left behind on the glass. The next step was to map his DNA into the key that iMe needed to recognise the signal as him. Lastly, I transferred it onto a tiny ID wafer.

  The wafer nestled in a small padded carrier about the size of my thumb and I eased back the carrier’s shiny lid. With a low purr, the carrier mechanism opened, and the ID wafer came up and out. The bronze coloured translucent film glimmered under the bright garage lights.

  I didn’t have time to repeat the whole process, so with great care I used my tweezers to lift and transfer the wafer from the carrier into the receiving slot in the shell. When I was sure it was in place, I pressed the small button on the side and listened to another purr as the shell closed over the ID wafer and lowered the wafer into the body of the electronics.

  I pushed a second button and a small fan started inside the shell. The display changed to say ’Initialising’. After a couple of seconds, the display changed to ‘Test Mode’. I waited. Test mode wouldn’t get as far as generating a signal, but if I had done the DNA extraction wrong, then nothing would work and my night would be ruined.

  The display changed again as it went through the test sequence. ‘Connecting… Connected… Login… ID Lookup… ID Test… Complete.’

  The display cleared. I held my breath for the moment of truth. I smiled as it redrew and blinked. ‘ID Mimic: Lussac, Clive. Verified.’

  ***

  The two Suppressors I needed were already waiting on the table in their protective carrying cases, fully charged and ready to go. Lussac was the right target. It was two-for-one: he’d pay for challenging me and, as a bonus, I’d derail the investigation.

  There were a few holes in my plan, but I couldn’t control everything. Anyway, Zoe was too young to know how to think for herself. All her generation knew was iMe. She’d never work it out.

  I turned my display wall on, selected a movie-streaming channel and selected two films I had seen before. My Mimic, home alone, would transmit my alibi that was unchallengeable now that iMe was so ingrained in the legal process.

  His Mimic would cause havoc.

  ***

  My Suppressor let me ghost through all the tracked masses and, at 6pm, I approached the entrance of Lussac’s apartment block. This was my moment of greatest exposure as I had to use the Mimic’s signal to open the front door.

  Shit. Two press drones in standby mode crouched by the door. They might catch Lussac’s signal and start to power-up – all lights, propellers and cameras. I hustled over to the drones and spent a few vulnerable seconds removing their power supplies.

  I hit the ‘Pulse Mode’ switch and the Mimic powered up, logged in and generated Lussac’s signal for a fraction of a second before shutting down. The signal was on long enough for the door to recognise Lussac’s signal and open. Of course, he would have two signals during the pulse from the Mimic, but I knew that this would be treated as a glitch and Tech Support wouldn’t see a flag to investigate it.

  I stepped through the door, pleased that no one had seen me and that the drones were disabled.

  The lift call button did nothing. It must need a signal to work but I wanted as few pulses as possible, so I used the stairs to climb to Lussac’s apartment. Outside, I flicked the ‘Pulse Mode’ switch again and was rewarded by a soft click.

  I stepped into his home.

  ***

  Lussac’s flat was small and messy. There wasn’t anywhere near the front door to hide, so I threaded my way along the hallway trying to avoid the discarded clothes. I couldn’t see a suitable hiding space in the open plan lounge or kitchen area.

  I paused at the bedroom door to check where Lussac was. My HUD drew a location map and showed him stationary in the loading area under the building. I didn’t have much time.

  I scanned the bedroom. There only seemed to be two choices: bathroom or wardrobe. The bathroom door was open wide, and I could see the shower and toilet. If I hid in there, I would have to close the door and he might remember leaving it open. He lived alone and maybe he never closed it. I decided that I couldn’t risk the bathroom. That left the wardrobe.

  I jogged over to it, slid open the left-hand door and looked with dismay at the shelves covered in jumbled clothes. A couple were folded, but the attempt at organisation had stalled early and a tangle of shirts and jumpers were dumped on top. Socks and T-shirts peeked out of the drawers and stopped them closing fully. I closed the door, making sure it was in the same position it had been, and slid open the right-hand door.

  The area was a hanging section and the rail was all but empty. It left plenty of space for me and my bag. I pushed aside the two hangers: one had a clean and ironed shirt, the other a crumbled suit jacket. I stepped into the wardrobe and slid the door shut behind me.

  My side of the wardrobe was dark, but I could see a thin section of bedroom wall through the other door. I would be able to see Lussac come into the bedroom without having to rely on my HUD. I settled in to wait, relaxing my muscles but staying alert. I would need to explode into action when he arrived. I delved into my pocket for the syringe and wiggled the cap off.

  The wardrobe smelt musty, but I caught the undertone of a burnt smell as well. I took a quick look around to find the source and saw that the back of the jacket was burnt through. Why had he kept it? I waited, trying to ignore the smell.

  I rechecked my HUD and saw that Lussac was in the lift.

  I flexed my shoulders in anticipation.

  41

  DI Clive Lussac

  My heart was still thumping around in my chest as I waited for the lift.

  ‘Shit. That’s all I need.’

  I was beginning to buckle under the weight of it all: two murders, no arrest, pressure from Bhatt, threats from Doris and now FU Enforcement.

  Calm down, I told myself. Get a grip.

  ‘It will be alright,’ I said, but I had no idea how.

  I looked at the counter for the lift. It was on the 35th floor. I watched the slow countdown as the lift descended and tried to slow my breathing to keep time with it. Thirty-One. Breathe in. Thirty. Breathe out. It helped, and by the time the lift arrived, I was feeling calmer.

  I greeted the lift’s ‘hello, Clive’ like an old friend and settled into the short trip back up to my floor.

  ***


  I stepped inside my flat and shut the door, collapsing back against it in relief. My wrist ached from where Winter had grabbed me. Rubbing it to try and ease the soreness made it worst.

  ‘Fucking FU police,’ I muttered.

  I looked into the flat. Messy, but at least I was safe. I could block my problems out. Like a child, I closed my eyes as I rested my head on the door. If I couldn’t see the world, then I could pretend that it couldn’t see me.

  I enjoyed some moments of tranquillity, allowing all the bad things to drift out of my mind and be replaced with my date with Sophia. I could picture her eyes smiling at me and her beautiful face framed by her lustrous hair. What she saw in me I had no idea, and I wasn’t going to risk it by asking her.

  I spent a few minutes dreaming of how the evening might go and how perfect it would be.

  I was interrupted by a message from the car I had booked saying that it was five minutes away.

  ‘Shit, look at the time,’ I said. I didn’t want to screw this up by being late. Sophia was out of my league, and she might not give me a second chance. I could relax in the car.

  No time for a shower, but I had time to wash quickly, clean my teeth, and get changed. At least I ironed my only nice shirt last night.

  Fuck the world. I was going to have a great time tonight. The rest could wait.

  I splashed around in the bathroom and glanced at the result in the mirror. I managed to convince myself that I looked pretty good and wetted down a stray piece of hair. It needed three more attacks with the water before it stayed in place.

  Perfect… well, maybe not perfect but as good as it was going to get.

  No solitary dinner for one for me tonight. I would sit at the table with Sophia and watch for the envious looks thrown in my direction. It would make a nice change from the pitying looks I usually got.

  All I needed now was my shirt, and I could head out of the door for the best night I had enjoyed in a long time.

  42

  Thief

  I heard the front door open and Lussac slamming it shut and collapsing against it. I caught a muttered, ‘Fucking FU police’ and then silence.

  What’s he doing?

  I listened to him come down the hall and into the bedroom.

  Lussac rushed across the bedroom – I could hear taps running and water being splashed around in the bathroom. I tensed as he flashed across the section of wall I could see and came towards the wardrobe.

  The door started to slide open and I raised the syringe. His hand and bare forearm pushed through the gap and waved around, searching for a hanger.

  As his hand found the shirt, I pushed the syringe into the exposed wrist and pressed hard.

  ***

  I could hear him blundering around as his heart pumped my special drug cocktail around his body. I had maybe overdone the strength of the drugs a little, but I wanted to be sure of a quick takedown.

  The sounds of movement in the bedroom stopped and I heard the whooshing noise of a compressing mattress mixed with the exhalation of breath as his body lost the fight with gravity. I stepped out of the wardrobe.

  Lussac was on his back with his arms splayed out like he was on a crucifix. His bum was only half on the bed, and his legs bent in an untidy mess under him. His body seemed to match how he kept the place.

  I lifted my bag, careful not to bang the contents against anything, and put it on the bed next to Lussac’s head.

  The bag unzipped with a nice clicking sound and I picked out the Suppressor from on top of the Mimic. Both were off and were cold, inert mixtures of carbon, silicon and copper. My power came when they were on.

  The travel bag gaped as I opened it and lifted the Suppressor out. I unclipped it to make a neck sized opening, used my left hand to lift Lussac’s head and manoeuvred it with my right. After a bit of jiggling, I had one end of the Suppressor under Lussac’s neck and I eased his head back onto the bed. I closed the ends together and adjusted the tension in it to give secure contact with his skin.

  Next, I lifted out the Mimic and placed it on the bed next to Lussac’s neck, I pressed and held the power button and waited for it to initialise. The display blinked ‘Ready’. I clicked a switch down to start the connection to the iMe network. I had a finger of my left hand over the power button of the Suppressor and stared at the Mimic’s display. It stepped from ‘Connecting’ to ‘Login’ to ‘Connected’.

  As soon as ‘Connected’ came up, I flicked the switch on the Suppressor. There would be another fraction of a second of a duplicate signal I hadn’t been able to engineer out, but I was sure that it would get ignored. A duplicate was better than a momentary period of ‘No Signal’ which would hit the alert screens at iMe.

  Either the tension or the weight of my Suppressor was stiffening my neck up. I rolled my head around to try and release it.

  From here, the evening was going to one of two ways: Plan A or Plan B. I unclipped two small latches on the Mimic and pulled the flap down. It revealed a small keyboard with little black keys and back-lit blue letters.

  I typed out a message, made a small change, and then was happy.

  ‘Mary, I know I have been a bastard recently, and it’s too late for us, but I want to say sorry. I want to do it face-to-face so you can see that I’m genuine this time. Can I come over now?’

  I pressed send and waited. The answer would tell me if I was going with plan A or B.

  Please let it be A. Lussac in my cage would be fun, but he wasn’t really part of the cause. Plan A would be sweet payback and generate the most disruption and doubt in the police.

  The Mimic beeped, and the reply showed on the display.

  ‘Clive, I want to believe you this time, I really do. Come over. I’ve programmed your signal for the front door and lift.’

  Yes! Plan A.

  ***

  I took the stairs again as they were empty and headed outside. The waiting car recognised Lussac’s signal from the Mimic nestled in my bag and opened its door. I reprogrammed the destination from a little Italian restaurant to Mary’s home.

  Had Lussac planned a hot date? It would explain him washing and the ironed shirt. That added an unexpected edge to the evening.

  I fantasised about what was to come.

  43

  DC Zoe Jordan

  I filled up when I saw Mum dressed up for the date. She looked so beautiful. I dabbed at the corner of my eyes.

  The simple black dress showed her figure off, and the silver necklace emphasised her neck and drew your eyes down.

  ‘You’re a bit showy, aren’t you?’ I said with concern, looking at the amount of cleavage the dress presented.

  Her eyes glittered, and she fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence. ‘I want to look my best.’

  The scene in the hall was the perfect replay of my first teenage dates. Mum full of pride, but also worrying that I had too much flesh on display. Me full of excitement and defiance, saying that I wanted to look my best before storming out. Her concerned, ‘Be careful’ while waving me off.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, hugging her. ‘You wait all these years to date again, and then you choose Clive when you could have anyone.’ Why couldn’t she see it?

  She shrugged. ‘I like him.’

  ‘But he’s a scruffy mess. He always tries to cheat on his FUs and he’s on his third Excess Consumption Order.’

  She shrugged again.

  ‘You’re wasted on him. You can do so much better.’

  Her car arrived and she opened the door and stepped out towards it.

  ‘Don’t be late… and be careful,’ I called.

  As the car departed, I shook my head. When had I become my mum’s mum?

  ***

  I couldn’t settle. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Mum or because of the case. I refused to admit to Clive that I enjoyed his old-school policing, but it was more interesting than relying on iMe, and it felt good that I was making a difference to the investigation.

&n
bsp; I spent some time attaching notes on possible interview approaches to Art’s and Esteban’s files. They would be replicated onto our crime wall at the PCU office and I could talk them through with Clive in the morning. I hoped that it would be after some insincere comments about how sorry I was that the date had gone wrong, and that Mum didn’t want to see him again. It had been years since Dad left, and I wanted her to be happy. Just with someone else.

  Mum pinged me a message and my Buddy dragged it onto my HUD: ‘I’m here, but he’s not.’

  I felt for her, sitting at the restaurant, waiting on her own, but I was pleased that Clive was messing the date up before it started.

  ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be there,’ I messaged back, hoping that he wouldn’t.

  I went back to my notes and only three minutes later I got another message.

  ‘He’s still not here.’

  He was only a few minutes late, but that was Mum. One minute late was still late.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be there soon,’ I replied.

  Clive had been looking forward to the date, so I expected him to be there early, ready and waiting but he had told me about the messages from Alfie and what a tap really meant. I was beginning to worry.

  Five minutes later, I could feel Mum’s anger. ‘He’s really late. It’s pissing me off.’

  I didn’t have a chance to reply before the next message arrived.

  ‘Can you find out where he is for me?’

  I wasn’t meant to do searches for personal reasons, but I guessed I could use Alfie’s threats as an excuse. I moved my notes aside on my HUD, brought up the search screen and put Clive in. I waited, and the screen redrew with a map.

  I spoke out my message and the HUD converted it to text. ‘Don’t worry. He’s in a car about five minutes from you.’ Then, as an afterthought to soften it, I added ‘He probably stopped to get you some flowers.’