by Malcolm Rose
Eagerly, Troy asked, ‘Did you get any info on him – or her?’
‘Admin weren’t as protective as they usually are – maybe because he’d been a bad boy and got booted off. Anyway, he ticked the bloke box, registered with an email that he abandoned straight after, and gave a false name and address. That’s another breach of the site’s rules.’
‘Not much help, then,’ said Troy.
‘Did you follow up any of the visitors he’d tried to meet? Meet in reality, I mean, not virtual get-togethers,’ Lexi said. ‘Because if he succeeded, they could be victims as well. And we’ve got at least one more casualty – L4G#4 – an outer whose heart ended up in a major.’
‘Of course I followed up,’ Terabyte replied, as if insulted by her question. ‘I couldn’t get any personal information but – here’s the big news – two of them logged on from Foreditch Homeless Centre. No idea what they posted or when they did it, but the place is about forty kilometres away from where you are right now.’
‘Thanks, Terabyte,’ Lexi said. ‘We’re onto it.’
SCENE 18
Thursday 10th April, Early evening
‘Chapulines?’ Troy turned up his nose. ‘What are they?’
‘Grasshoppers toasted with garlic and lime. Want to try?’
‘Er … No, thanks. I’ll stick with sausages.’
‘Any scorpions in them?’ Lexi asked with a grin.
‘It’s a mystery. No one’s quite sure what they’re made of. Pork, offal, horse?’
‘You don’t even know what you’re eating!’
‘I know they taste nice, especially when they’re swimming in brown sauce.’
Lexi tried to imitate her new partner. ‘Weird.’
Under a darkening sky, she was still licking her dessert – an ant lollipop – when they arrived at the homeless centre.
The building was at the edge of Foreditch’s commercial hub, next to the temple, in the grounds of the cemetery. It had probably once belonged to the temple but now it was dedicated to helping the displaced. The manager was not much older than Troy and Lexi. She introduced herself as Skye and she showed them around, pushing open doors so they could see inside every part.
‘We provide hot meals and drinks,’ she said in the main room, which was a modest self-service canteen and seating area. ‘Our most important function.’ She opened another door on a small dormitory. ‘And a few beds. On a first-come, first-served basis. Never enough in winter but okay at this time of year.’ She flung back another door, revealing an office. ‘My bit of space for getting things organized. It’s open, though. No secrets here.’ There were a couple of phones and three desktop computers. A homeless woman was seated at one of them. ‘They can go online here, if they want. I encourage it.’
‘Why?’
Skye sniffed. ‘A connection to the rest of the world. Makes them feel part of the community. Less alone.’
‘Have you come across The Solitude Network?’ Troy asked.
‘Sure. I recommend it. Very comforting. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’
‘I’m just not sure it’s as safe as it looks. But you’re not to know that.’ Troy nodded towards Lexi’s life-logger. ‘We want to show you a picture of someone. I warn you, it’s not very pleasant because he’s dead, I’m afraid. But I want to know if you recognize him.’
Skye peered at the cleaned-up image of L4G#1, screwed up her face and sighed. ‘Jerome Eleven. Think so anyway. Pretty sure.’
‘One of your clients?’
Skye nodded. ‘A regular. Then he stopped.’ She turned away momentarily, obviously upset.
‘Weren’t you suspicious?’
‘No. It’s normal in this game. People come in a lot and then they don’t. Remember, they’re drifters.’
‘Did he use The Solitude Network?’
‘Think so. Yes.’
‘When did you last see him?’
Skye shrugged. ‘Weeks ago.’
Taken aback, Troy glanced at Lexi. The decomposition of the body wasn’t consistent with death that long ago. ‘Are you sure it was weeks?’
‘Couldn’t put my finger on a date.’
‘But weeks rather than days?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Did he tell you anything about his online browsing?’
‘I don’t ask. It’s private.’
‘Before he left, did he tell you what he intended to do?’
‘No.’
Disappointed, Troy switched his attention to the heart from L4G#4. ‘Can you think of an outer – man or woman – who used The Solitude Network near the end of last month and then didn’t come back?’
Skye frowned. ‘That’s not enough to go on. Maybe, but … I wouldn’t be able to suggest any names.’
Afterwards, Lexi sat beside Troy on a bench in the cemetery as overhead threatening clouds thickened. In the gloom, she looked at her partner and said, ‘We don’t know anything about the outer heart, but we’ve got names for all the bodies now. That’ll make you a happy major.’
Troy’s face remained creased. ‘Happier, but south of happy.’
‘I know what’s bothering you. The timing doesn’t add up, does it? Samaritan 999 got kicked off The Solitude Network around the time Olga died. The last week of March. I’m convinced Jerome Eleven was murdered on 4th April, so how did Samaritan 999 arrange to meet him?’
‘Exactly. Even if Samaritan 999 logged on under a different username, Jerome was drifting, probably nowhere near a computer.’
‘Maggots aren’t like humans. They don’t lie. Jerome died last Friday.’
Suddenly, Troy’s face lit up. ‘Unless … Yes. It’s obvious.’
‘Don’t tell me. He fixed up a meeting with Samaritan 999 weeks ago. They got together a few times. Days, weeks went by before Samaritan 999 smacked him on the back of the head and stole his organs.’
‘No. That wasn’t what I was going to say. They had their meeting ages ago and that’s when Jerome disappeared.’
‘But …’
‘Suspended animation.’
‘What?’
‘Any hospital or clinic can chill a patient. They slow the body chemistry right down,’ Troy said. ‘Cryonics. He’d be as good as dead but the organs would be preserved, ready for use.’
‘That’s a tidy explanation,’ Lexi admitted. ‘But I’m puzzled. Why didn’t I think of it?’
‘Why should you?’
‘Because he’s an outer like me and outers have been known to hibernate – in a way.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s not an everyday event. It’s halfway between myth and fact. Some outers have dropped their heart rates to ten or fifteen beats a minute in life-threatening situations. It helps them to survive critical injuries or illnesses. Gives doctors more time to sort out a treatment, like going into slow motion. Something you majors can’t do.’
Troy nodded. ‘Some rogue clinic kept him on ice till they harvested what they wanted. Then they disposed of his body last Friday. It all fits.’
‘Maybe that’s why we’re drawing a blank on the outer heart. L4G#4 could have been put in hibernation ages ago.’
‘True.’
Lexi turned towards him and said, ‘Pretty good reasoning for someone who’s not clever.’
Troy smiled. ‘Once a heart, lungs, kidney or whatever are removed from a body, how long do they last? I’m not clever enough to know.’
‘They start going downhill straightaway so it’s best to operate as soon as possible. I think they’re still okay after a few hours in a chiller. That’s what Gianna Humble said. Something about chilling an organ till the recipient’s ready. I’ll do some research and firm it up.’
Almost at once, Troy jolted upright.
‘What …?’
Jumping to his feet and pointing at a figure heading for the homeless centre through the increasing darkness, Troy exclaimed, ‘That’s Huw!’
As soon as the two detectives began to move towards him, Huw spot
ted them, turned and ran in the opposite direction, making for a gate from the cemetery onto a riverside path. A rucksack bounced up and down on his back.
Within seconds, Lexi was strides ahead of Troy and hail began to pelt them. The sudden storm distorted Troy’s vision and the vicious balls of ice stung his skin. He screwed up his face so the hail had less chance of hitting his eyes.
At the gate, Huw and Lexi had turned left towards the commercial heart of Foreditch. Countless hailstones hurled themselves at the river, rippling the surface so the water appeared to be boiling. On the other side, the frozen rain clattered loudly against an approaching train that was reducing its speed as it neared the station.
Lexi’s burst of speed had not yet faded. Troy didn’t see much point in simply following her. He needed a different tactic. Above the storm, he yelled, ‘Immediate backup needed for Lexi Iona Four. Trace her life-logger. Can’t be far from Foreditch Crime Central.’ He dashed towards a bridge that spanned both the river and the railway. On the other side, he vaulted over the fence and sprinted up a short grassy slope onto the stones beside the track. Taking a deep breath, he ran alongside the train. When the last carriage came past, he leapt between the rails and accelerated. Gritting his teeth, he surged forward as fast as he was able and threw himself at the back of the coach. He grabbed a cold metal bar with both arms and his feet found the metal plate. There, he clung on tightly. Relieved. He’d acted on impulse – a dangerous impulse that might have got him injured or killed – but he was elated as well.
The train continued to brake but, even so, Troy overtook two people scampering through the hailstorm on the far river bank. As far as Troy could see, Lexi was lagging further behind Huw. As an outer, she was probably running out of steam. Neither of them noticed Troy on his unconventional and perilous perch.
When the train passed over the river and slowed to walking pace, Troy jumped off and scrambled onto the river bank. There, behind the entertainment complex, he waited. The path had turned white with small frozen spheres. The storm had eased a little but hail still bounced off his head and shoulders. The sky remained dark as nightfall loomed.
Within seconds, Huw saw Troy ahead and skidded to a halt. Puzzled, he stood still, uncertain. Then he turned slowly round, clearly wondering who he’d prefer to tackle – Troy or an exhausted Lexi.
‘I’m tired,’ Lexi called out as she drew close to him, ‘but I still don’t think you want to take me on. You might be surprised who comes off worse.’
On cue, two police officers from Foreditch Crime Central raced onto the path and positioned themselves behind her.
Huw glanced at the river and Troy realized that, just for an instant, he was thinking about making his escape by diving into the water and swimming. With a rail bridge nearby and four people against him, though, he must have decided that the attempt would fail. He would also have known that his every move would be captured by life-loggers.
Huw’s shoulders sagged. He was trapped. Game over.
A train sauntered out of town as Troy walked up to him. At the same time, Troy’s life-logger vibrated with an incoming message. When he saw it, Troy laughed. He held it up towards Huw and said, ‘Look. Memo from the team near Langhorn Reservoir. “No sign of subject Huw. No fresh graves in the wood.”’
‘You thought I might be dead?’
‘It’s a murder scene and you disappeared,’ Troy answered. ‘It was one theory. But it’s not holding up well right now. Another was that you’re a suspect. Running away adds to that impression.’
Still panting, Lexi joined them. Immediately, she glanced down to confirm Huw’s shoe size. The two officers stayed within a few paces in case they were needed.
‘But …’ Flustered, Huw hesitated.
‘Yes?’
‘You took me by surprise, turning up here. I suppose I panicked. I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just scared I made myself look guilty because I told you I was staying put, but didn’t.’
‘Why did you move on?’ Troy asked.
‘I didn’t like all the … commotion in the wood. Nothing more than that. I like peace and quiet.’
‘What’s in your backpack?’
‘All my worldly goods. And it’s nowhere near full.’
‘Some sharp tools?’
‘A few specialist ones for carving. Not many.’
‘Why come here?’ Troy said.
‘I told you before. I volunteer at the homeless centre.’
‘Do you know a man called Jerome who used to drop in now and again?’
Huw shook his head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. No.’
‘Well, here’s my problem. One of our victims was here before his body turned up next to Langhorn Reservoir. Now I find out you help out at the same place and you were living a stone’s throw from his grave. Your shoeprint’s right there, next to it. You’re the common factor.’
Huw opened his mouth to say something but failed to find the words.
Lexi said, ‘You know we’re going to arrest you, don’t you? We can’t have you running off again.’ She looked at the police reinforcements and said, ‘It’s a charge of resisting arrest for now.’
‘But,’ Huw spluttered, ‘I wouldn’t bury someone right next to my own cabin, would I? That’d be stupid.’
Quick as a flash, Lexi replied, ‘It’s not just clever people who commit crimes. Stupid people do it too.’
Troy smiled. ‘The reason you’re not facing something more serious is because we know someone else is involved. Do you want to tell us about an accomplice?’
‘I can’t. I don’t …’
‘Where did you get the trolley?’
‘Trolley? What trolley?’
Huw looked suitably surprised and bewildered.
‘All right,’ Troy said. ‘We’ll stick at resisting arrest. For one thing, I don’t think you’re stupid.’ To the uniformed officers, he said, ‘Don’t forget to check his bag. I think you’ll find some sharp instruments in it.’
While Troy and Lexi watched Huw being led away, the hail finally came to an end. Lexi looked at her partner and said, ‘Just tell me one thing. How did you get here so quickly?’
‘Technically,’ he replied, ‘I think it’s called cheating.’
‘That’s not an answer.’
‘A major has to preserve his mystery. Anyway, what about you? What was that bit about him coming off worse if he took you on?’
‘You only met me three days ago. Nowhere near long enough to probe the vast depths of an outer.’
SCENE 19
Friday 11th April, Morning
Lexi had not wasted the night. Between bouts of meditation, she had assembled a spreadsheet that summarized their case. She pointed at the first entry and said, ‘A spot of research told me L4G#1’s full name is Jerome Sebastian Eleven. He went off-grid two years ago. Killed and harvested for body parts last Friday but, because of the modern invention of cryonics, he could have been snatched weeks ago. Used The Solitude Network website.’
Troy sat and watched her, admiring her crisp and unemotional assessments.
‘A simple overnight DNA check using skin and hair from Olga Wylie’s house proves she’s L4G#2. No big shock there. Probably died around Tuesday 25th March. Body not harvested. She received a transplant instead. A huge gaffe gave her an outer’s heart and a quick death. Also used The Solitude Network website. Someone in size twelve shoes broke into her house and trod the ground near the place she was buried.
‘L4G#3 is Dmitri Backhouse. Died about 25th February. Possible assisted suicide arranged online via a suicide chat room. A thoroughly harvested body. Just about every usable bit taken.’ Lexi paused and added, ‘Note the online connection between all three.’ Then she sighed. ‘L4G#4’s a mystery. All we’ve got is an outer heart. It must have been available on 25th March or thereabouts because, in a way, it became the weapon that killed Olga Wylie.’ Gazing at Troy, she asked, ‘Am I boring you?’
‘No. I know it all, but a review’s
really helpful. What about the clues that’re floating in mid-air?’
Lexi pointed to the right-hand side of the screen. ‘That’ll be the unknown cart tracks, the size twelve shoeprints and the list of people with a fishing licence for Langhorn Reservoir – no one on it related to the case yet.’
‘And the evidence we’d love to find – Dmitri’s and Olga’s computers.’
‘True. Now, suspects. Not a lot to say. Not a lot of them. Huw, the displaced wood-carver. Under arrest in Foreditch. Connected to Jerome Eleven through Foreditch Homeless Centre. Connected to all victims by living in the wood and his shoeprints near their graves. Not size twelve, though. And …’ She turned to face Troy. ‘Neither of us thinks he did it, do we?’
‘No. He doesn’t care enough about money to make more of it by harvesting bodies.’
Lexi nodded. ‘There’s just a niggling doubt he knows more than he’s saying, or he helped the bad guy in some way.’ Focusing on the screen again, she continued, ‘The Rural Retreat Transplant Clinic. Its location – and its business – makes the whole organization an obvious suspect. But no evidence whatsoever, despite camera surveillance.’ She shrugged. ‘And we’ve got vague online suspects. Samaritan 999 trawls The Solitude Network and Charon Angel’s active in the suicide chat room. Perhaps picking on the vulnerable. But Charon Angel posts stuff that could be perfectly innocent and lives in Switzerland. Which isn’t very convenient for committing murders in Shepford. So,’ she said, ‘what do you conclude, oh perceptive one?’
Troy smiled. ‘I conclude we need more information, oh methodical one. But …’
‘What?’
‘It’s still the internet trawlers I’m most interested in.’
‘You’re confusing gut instinct with logic and common sense. You can’t kill people here if you’re in Switzerland.’
‘True. But that begs a question.’
