by Malcolm Rose
“It appears there was an error in the memory chip.”
It was dark outside but Sheffield’s floodlit Southern Park was still eye-catching. It was a beautiful mixture of evergreens, lush lawns, a swimming pool, sports fields, an animal sanctuary, and lakes. Some people from the city were walking through it for leisure, others were jogging for fitness or engaged in organized sport, and a few children were playing as the snow drifted down again.
“So, why’s the Pairing Committee in the firing line? I mean, why are they getting blamed? Isn’t it the card’s fault?”
“It is standard practice to check The Authorities’ files before any pairing is confirmed.”
Luke glanced at Malc and shrugged. “Sounds more like someone cutting corners than corruption.”
“Explain.”
“Maybe they just did a sloppy job. Maybe they didn’t intend to break the rules. They relied on the identity card, thinking it was a waste of time to check files.”
“The Authorities believe that a committee member consulted their records but ignored the information and continued with an illegal pairing.”
“Ah,” Luke replied. “Which committee member?”
“Unknown. It was someone using a computer within Sheffield City Hall. The task would normally be undertaken by the Chairperson.”
“What about Mollie Gazzo’s identity card? Was it a deliberate mistake – a forgery – or just a bug in the electronic system?”
“Unknown. Clarifying the status of the identity card should form part of your investigation.”
****
The cab shifted onto tracks that led to the southwest of the city. Luke turned to Malc where he rested on the seat, plugged into the cab’s energy port to recharge his battery. “Where are we going?”
“Burbage Rocks. I have confirmed that Mollie Gazzo and Rufus Vile are available at the geothermal power station, where they have both just started the night shift. They are expecting you.”
“They’re technologists?”
“Correct.”
The cab slowed as it hit the sharp gradient and climbed through Ringinglow Wood. Suddenly, the world beyond the automated vehicle became shadowy and sinister. As the cab rose above the tree line, the atmosphere changed. The bright lights of Sheffield appeared to Luke’s right and a long way below him. He gazed at them through falling snow and then raised his eyes. The stars in the night sky were obscured by the blizzard but not quite hidden by whiteout. Soon, the silvery geothermal power station came into his view. Its three chimneys glinted in the station’s exterior lights and a pillar of steam rose from each one.
Luke had never been inside a geothermal power station. He knew how they worked, though. It was a simple idea but the necessary engineering was complex. Cold water was driven five kilometres underground where the hot earth boiled it, turning it into superheated steam. The steam returned to the surface where it powered a turbine to make a large amount of Sheffield’s electricity. Wind farms on the Peaks provided the rest.
The huge building was not as secure as Cambridge Prison. The large door was programmed to respond to the identity cards of its own staff, The Authorities and forensic investigators. It swung aside for Luke as soon as he swiped his card past the reader.
Inside, there was a steady drone. Somewhere within the building, gigantic steel wheels turned relentlessly. The whole place seemed to hum with the constant churning.
Mollie Gazzo and Rufus Vile were standing in the computer room in front of a panel of telescreens. Each one showed graphs, rows of figures, and a series of coloured lights as the giant processor monitored every aspect of the power station’s performance. Occasionally, Mollie or Rufus would step forward and make an adjustment by typing on a keypad but there wasn’t a hint of panic. Everything seemed to be under control. Mollie was clearly a few years older than her husband.
Luke introduced himself and then said, “It doesn’t really matter – you’re not under any sort of suspicion – but I wondered how you two met. Was it here at work?”
Rufus and Mollie exchanged a worried glance. It was Mollie who answered. “No. I’m not from Sheffield. We met at a course on the information technology of power generation. It was in Derby.” She stumbled over some of the words because she was sucking a sweet.
“And you got on well,” Luke prompted.
They both nodded.
“Mmm,” Luke muttered as he viewed the bank of telescreens. “Bit of a coincidence that you got paired.”
Rufus coughed heavily, moved closer to Luke and pressed a couple of keys. “A happy coincidence,” he stressed. “We’re very pleased with how it worked out. Aren’t we, Mollie?”
“Yes, Roof.”
Luke sniffed silently. Rufus was wearing a lot of deodorant. Turning back to Mollie, he asked, “Did you move to Sheffield to be closer to Rufus?”
Noticing a packet of extra-strong mints lying by one of the keyboards, Mollie picked it up and slipped it into her pocket. The sapphire in her pairing ring caught for a moment on the cloth. “Er... Yes. That’s right.”
“And did you try to influence the Pairing Committee?”
Again they looked at each other. This time, they both shook their heads in denial.
“You see,” Luke continued, “it seems strange that it worked out. Especially when you’re not as old as each other.”
“Ah. There was a mix-up over our ages,” Rufus replied, “but we didn’t object.”
“And you didn’t point it out.”
“No. Well, would you? We wanted to be paired.”
Luke smiled. “No, if I wanted an illegal pairing, I wouldn’t either. I’m no great fan of pairing rules.” He paused before adding, “It was your identity card, wasn’t it, Mollie?”
“Yes. There’s an error on it.”
“Mmm. How did that happen?”
She shrugged. “It says I’m twenty but I’m twenty-four really.”
“I want my mobile to scan it, please.”
Mollie shifted the sweet from one cheek to the other. “Do I have any choice?”
Smiling, Luke shook his head. “Sorry. None at all.”
She was wearing it on a chain around her neck. She yanked it out from under her clothes and held it out for Malc to scan.
“Did you alter it in some way?” Luke asked. “You know about information technology.”
“Nowhere near enough to bypass the security of an identity card. That’s tough.”
“Are there people who can do it?” asked Luke.
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“Pity,” Luke replied. He took a deep breath as the other two gazed at him in shock. “To be honest, that’s what this is all about. You see, I’m going to be paired with someone I’d rather not be paired with. And there’s a girl I’m very keen on. Confirm, please, Malc.”
“In the matter of pairing, FI Harding is considered uncooperative and undisciplined by The Authorities.”
“So, if there’s a way of altering an identity card or influencing the Sheffield Pairing Committee, I’d be... very interested.”
Luke knew that he had not convinced them. There was distrust in their faces. Neither of them replied.
He let out a breath to show his frustration. “Telling me how you did it won’t get you into any more trouble.”
But there wasn’t a murmur from either of them.
“All right. I’m done for now, but I’ll be in touch. If you don’t cooperate next time, I’ll get heavy. I can arrest you for not answering my questions. Think about it.” He left the room with Malc gliding behind him. As soon as he shut the door, he whispered, “I want you to take an air sample for analysis. They’re covering something up with mints and perfume. Okay?”
“Logged.”
When Luke banged on the door and went back in with Malc, the two technologists sprang apart like naughty schoolchildren. “I just want you to think how it’d feel if you hadn’t been paired together. It’d hurt, wouldn’t it? A lot. Well, that’s how I
feel right now.” He glowered at them, venting his emotion. “So, I’m relying on you to understand and help me out. You know what I want. I’ll see you soon.” Then he left with a flourish.
Chapter Seven
As Luke strode back towards the main entrance, he said, “Well? You took an air sample. Are you doing the analysis?”
“Confirmed. However, it is a very complicated mixture. There are hundreds of trace components. I am attempting chromatographic separation and identifying as many airborne substances as possible.”
“Hundreds? Why? That’s not normal, is it?”
“No. It is an unusually complex sample. I am processing.”
Outside, the night air had dropped a few more degrees and Luke shivered. He swiped his identity card through the corridor reader and said into the microphone, “Sheffield Hotel.” The cab had not moved. Its door opened and Luke stepped gratefully into its warm interior. With a slight jolt, it began the long descent into the twinkling city that had spread itself over the picturesque bowl between the surrounding hills.
As the cab ran through the suburbs, Malc reported, “Apart from the known major components of air, I am detecting some unusual substances. Civetone, phenylethanal, menthol...”
Luke interrupted him. “I’ve heard of that one. Isn’t menthol minty?”
“Correct. It is extracted from the peppermint plant or common mint herb.”
“That’ll be the sweets Mollie was keen to hide. What are the other two?”
“Civetone is a floral musky odour used in perfumes, originally obtained from an anal sac of the civet cat.”
Luke squirmed in his seat. “It’s from the wrong end of an animal and it’s supposed to smell nice?”
“In concentrated form, it is said to be disagreeably pungent. Diluted, it is pleasing to humans and it has been used as a fragrance for over two thousand years.”
“What’s phenylethanal?”
“It is the odour of hyacinths, also used in perfumes.”
“Okay. So far, you’ve got deodorants and mints. That’s what they were using to cover something up. What else have you found?”
“Traces of benzene, pyrrolidine, dimethylamine and nicotine.”
“Are they to do with a geothermal power station?”
“No. In that combination, I am aware of only one source. They are breakdown products of tobacco.”
“Tobacco?” Luke replied. “Isn’t that a plant?”
“Correct. It is any of the Nicotiana genus of the potato family with large sticky leaves and tubular flowers. Specifically, it refers to Nicotiana tabacum which is cultivated overseas for its leaves.”
“Oh? What are they used for?”
“They are dried, cut and wrapped in thin paper to make the shape of a narrow cylinder called a cigarette. This is set on fire and its smoke inhaled.”
Luke grimaced. “Are you sure?”
“If there is uncertainty in any of my statements, I am required to make it clear.”
“It sounds crazy.”
“Smoking cigarettes in this country is illegal. It is harmful to human health, causing heart disease, lung cancer and other conditions.”
“I’m not surprised it’s illegal. Why would anyone do it?”
“Tobacco smoke contains thousands of substances. Some are said to aid relaxation and others are addictive.”
“So,” Luke deduced, “Mollie Gazzo and Rufus Vile have been smoking tobacco.”
Malc agreed. “Highly likely.”
“Good. That gives me something to use against them.”
“As it is an illegal activity, you are obliged to investigate.”
“That’s right. I don’t have enough cases on my hands already, do I?” Luke moaned.
The cab stopped and Luke made straight for the hotel reception.
****
Luke was lying on the bed, hands clasped behind his head, gazing at the night sky that Malc had projected onto the white ceiling. “Is it worth my while getting up in the morning?” Luke asked.
Malc hesitated. “Confirmed. But the purpose of your question is unclear.”
“I mean, did you find a supply of pomegranates? It’s hard to face the day without one for breakfast.”
“I located an all-year-round supply from the Middle East. I have arranged import from Jordan.”
“Brilliant. That’s the power of an FI, put to good use.” Luke paused for a moment and then asked, “If these tobacco leaves come from overseas, how do they get imported?”
“Details are not known with certainty, but they are smuggled by boat. Illegal consignments have also been seized by The Authorities from people flying into England.”
Luke watched a shooting star, or at least the image of one. It was no more real than the hologram of Rowan Pearce’s body and house. “Find an address for Rufus Vile and Mollie Gazzo. Tomorrow, I want to drop in on them. If they’re using these dried leaves for smoking, there’ll be particles in their house. You can suck up a sample of dust for analysis.”
“Task logged.”
Smiling, Luke turned his head towards Malc. “You could make a new career as a vacuum cleaner.” Then, trying to tease Malc, he added, “That’d really suck.”
“I assume that you are using two different definitions of the verb, suck, for humorous effect. However, you presuppose that I would find cleaning less dignified than forensic investigation. I have no concept of dignity, boredom or excitement.”
Luke laughed. “No, but you know how to kill a joke. Anyway, I want you to look for fragments of tobacco leaves or ash particles.”
“There are two other means of conducting the investigation. The bodies of cigarette smokers contain nicotine, which breaks down to cotinine. If the suspects have been smoking, samples taken automatically from their toilet will contain cotinine.”
In the north, everyone’s state of health was monitored each time they used a lavatory. Samples were analysed automatically by smart toilets and, if a chemical indicative of disease were found, the person would be called to a clinic immediately.
“Would that be classed as a health issue?”
“No,” Malc answered. “It would be an unusual finding and an indication of illegal activities, but not a sign of ill-health, so its presence would not be highlighted by the medical centre’s computer.”
“Keep it in reserve. It’s probably not necessary to go that far. But you said there was another way of telling.”
“Smokers usually hold a cigarette between their index and middle fingers. It results in yellow staining of the skin, although it is barely visible to the human eye on conventional brown skin.”
“Useful. Thanks.”
“Gratitude is not necessary,” said Malc.
But it struck Luke that, after Jade, Malc was his best friend. He felt grateful even though Malc was just a machine. “You’ve got that scan of Mollie Gazzo’s identity card. Has it been altered? Is it genuine?”
“The card appears to be perfect, yet incorrect.”
The advantage of having an indoor sky was that it was always completely clear. Outside, the real thing was masked by steady snowfall. “There’s something else for tomorrow,” Luke said. “I still want to find out more about Rowan Pearce. Interviewing any neighbours who knew him would be a good start. It hasn’t been done already, has it?”
“No.”
“I bet the FI thought it wasn’t worth the effort because the case was wrapped up so quickly.” Luke swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “So, that’s a trip back to London. But right now,” he said, “I’ve got something urgent to do. Give me a connection to Jade. I want to find out whether her gig was utterly brilliant or just great. Then I’m going to hit the sack.”
“That is a curious and pointless activity.”
Chapter Eight
In the morning, Luke timed his arrival at Rufus Vile and Mollie Gazzo’s house to catch them as they returned from their nightshift at the power station. Watching them carefully, he saw them grimace a
s they caught sight of him and Malc. They were not looking forward to another interview. But they knew that they could not refuse a forensic investigator. They let him into their house in Totley Rise.
“I’m sorry to catch you straight after work,” Luke said as he went with them into the unremarkable living room, “but I’m on my way to London...”
“Lucky you,” Molly muttered with irony.
Luke realized from her expression that she was trying to come across as composed, but she failed. He could see tension in her eyes and face. “Yeah. I’ve got to get going in a few minutes so I won’t keep you for long.” He let them both sink into the leather sofa before he asked, “What am I interrupting? How do you normally relax after work?”
Rufus reddened and Mollie tried to come up with something plausible. “We... er... like to share a drink and a bite to eat. That sort of thing.” Weakly, she ran out of ideas straightaway and stopped talking.
Luke smiled. Even before Malc reported on the analysis he was conducting as he perched on the small table in the middle of the room, Luke was sure that the couple would normally smoke cigarettes. “You can’t really call it breakfast, can you? Not after work. Anyway, have you thought about what I said, about how you got to be paired?”
“Not really. You know. We’ve been busy.”
“Have you heard of cotinine?”
They both looked bewildered. “No.”
“It’s a breakdown product of nicotine and it’s found in people who smoke tobacco illegally.”
Taken by surprise, they both jolted, but they were not yet ready to admit anything. “What’s that got to do with us?” Mollie asked, her voice quaking.
“I can tell Malc to search your house, you know. It’d be interesting to see what he turns up. Any moment now, he’s going to complete an examination of the dust in here.”
“All right,” Rufus began. “We...”
“Roof!” Mollie warned him.
Rufus coughed into his hand. Dejected, he looked at his partner and said, “It’s no use, love. You know what he wants. We’ve got to...”
