by Ian Williams
In comparison to the many other victims they had found thus far, Oliver had had a much more eventful life. Most were ordinary people, living their lives without any obvious problems. Occasionally one or two turned out to be a missing person, most of which had been reported gone after the relay outages eighteen months ago. Individuals who had probably fallen foul of the many illegal temptations found on the rough streets during their time of need. But overall Oliver was indicative of something new for the case.
The last entry on the report to flow past Conrad’s eyes was an address, or at least a last-known-address. It would be the next place their investigation would go.
“What’s the area like around Oliver’s last known?” Conrad asked.
Another round of fast hand flicks and sweeping hand gestures later and Joe had once again found what they needed much faster than Conrad could. He even went as far as bringing up a live feed from one of the Crime Detection System’s many CCTV cameras in the area.
The place looked quiet enough, with a small area of green overlooked by the apartments either side. A family played there, near to the burnt skeleton of a spring mattress left discarded by vandals. Despite the mess, the image brought a smile to Conrad’s drooping face. Lining the route were large apartment blocks, their small balconies looking over the streets below. One of them held some hope of shedding light on Oliver’s involvement in the case. If he had anyone living with him too, then they would also have the difficult job of telling that person about Oliver’s death. Even at the rank of DCI, Conrad could still not find the right way to do this. He hated leaving it to Joe, but he was so much better at it.
“At least we know the camera system is still working there,” Conrad noted. “I was just getting used to nothing working properly.”
“Yeah, a good sign.”
After they had spent far too long in silence and watching the kids playing, Joe then asked, “So you wanna take a look at the place?”
“Absolutely. Could stop off for a bite to eat too.”
“Deffo on that one.”
Conrad laughed at his partner’s sometimes odd way of replying, before heading in the general direction of the exit. Luckily Joe had deactivated the holographic projector in time, so he did not walk straight into the wall, only nearly. The room then returned to a dim lighting level, its walls highly reflective and still shining almost all of the light back.
They thanked the heavily bespectacled female archivist as they stepped out into a worryingly busy hallway. All the while they continued to sip their coffees, a small comfort neither were willing to rush. It soon became clear to Conrad that something big was going on, something that needed the attention of multiple officers. Those that rushed by – almost knocking the drink from Conrad’s hand – were readying themselves as they walked.
Back in the open office space of the CID, Conrad quickly checked for any floating holographic messages left seemingly stuck to his computer screen. There was one and it had the flashing red border of an emergency notification. Tapping his finger in the area of the note opened it out for him to read at his preferred font size. The words now hovered in front of his screen.
“Oh Christ,” Conrad said as the image of yet another Mag-Lev crash flashed up without warning. The picture had come directly from the scene, with every gruesome detail there to be seen clearly. In the background he could see one of the civilians caught up in the crash; although this man was one of the lucky survivors, he had not come away unharmed and was missing his right arm as a result. “You seen this, Joe?”
“Looking at it right now,” Joe replied from his own desk.
Conrad looked away from the screen and swiped his hand in roughly the correct place to close the message. He then readied anything he thought he might need for the trip out; which was usually not much, as his wrist computer was his main tool. What Conrad always gave a once over before going anywhere these days was his Taser pistol, tucked in a holster under his left arm. With so many violent incidents happening in parts of the city that were still only intermittently covered by the failing Crime Detection System, he rarely left his office without one. Mag-Lev crashes were not the only thing to have become far too common for the city after the relay network was brought down.
He removed the pistol, looked down the sight and then pressed down on the ‘check charge’ button. When a solid blue light shone back at him he was satisfied it was ready when and if needed.
“Hold up a sec please, Conrad,” Detective Chief Superintendent Chalmers said. She approached from her own separate office.
At least ten years younger than him, DCS Chalmers was also at least ten times more authoritative too. When she wanted something done you had better do it, or she would find someone else to do it for you. Conrad knew what that meant too; he would never be picked again if he tried the ‘no’ word. He had discovered this on a few occasions, before finding himself put out in the cold each time. Nothing appeared to phase her at all, she took it all in her stride.
Her appearance was, as always, immaculate, with little more than a hair out of place. She wore high heeled shoes that raised her height by a couple of inches, still not enough to bring her eyes level with the men she ruled in the department. What she lacked in vertical measurements she more than made up for with an overabundance of confidence. She knew the job and everyone else’s too.
“Ma’am, do you want us to help with this Mag-lev crash situation?” Joe said.
“That won’t be necessary, they have enough help to cope.” The DCS walked straight past Joe, her eyes locked onto Conrad’s for the time being. “Conrad, I wanted to make sure you were aware of what’s happening tomorrow,” she said.
“Oh, crap. I should have told you, Conrad, sorry,” Joe confessed from behind the DCS with a guilty wave.
“Sure.” Conrad shot a smile at his forgetful partner. “It’s that Mayor’s Switchover Day thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I want all plain clothes officers there too. We need to make a good show of our department. After all, no-one really sees us out there, do they? And this is something really important for the city.”
Conrad nodded in quiet agreement. He had heard enough about the special day in the news. The Mayor’s new relay network was due to take over from what remained of the old and dangerously unreliable system. It promised an upgraded wireless power and data network. Important? Certainly. A chance for the Mayor to stage an elaborate bid for his re-election? Absolutely. Nothing was allowed to disrupt the event, not even the knowledge of a possible killer-cult running around the streets.
“So,” DCS Chalmers continued, “I want all officers there a few hours before. You’ll only be expected to stand and look presentable when the time comes, nothing more than that – unless we have trouble. Once the Mayor has given his speech and the public have moved on, you can all go back to your cases.”
“Sounds good to me. We’ll be there.”
“Great.” She went to walk away and then appeared to remember something else. “One more thing, Conrad. I’m going to need a detailed update on your case. The Mayor is still worried the press might find out. I can’t tell you how important it is that none of this gets out just yet. If the public hear about these murders before his big day tomorrow it could undermine the whole event.”
He disliked being forced into a corner in such a way. It was not their place to decide when the public found out. Treating the whole case as a mild inconvenience went against everything Conrad stood for. Unfortunately, it was not his say either. He had to go along with it or face losing his job. His time there was running out, he knew. His age meant he had maybe another five years or so left before they retired him out of the department. Perhaps he was more suited to wearing slippers all day than investigating the city’s worst types of crimes? He certainly did not think so.
“Fine, but I can’t guarantee some clever-clogs might not figure it out. When did you last hear of a potential serial-killer-club on the loose? The press would kill to get hol
d of this.”
“True, so don’t give them the opportunity, OK? And for God’s sake, stop calling it a serial-killer-club or killer-cult. You’ll cause another bloody riot if someone overhears you saying that.”
“But it makes the most sense. One person couldn’t have done all of this alone, there has to be at least a few of them. That sounds a lot like a shared hobby to me, kind of like a club.”
“I don’t care, stop calling it anything other than a murder case. We’ve seen more rioting and looting in the past eighteen months than we ever saw before the relay network was sabotaged, we certainly don’t want any more. Understand?”
Conrad looked down at his desk.
“Understand?” DCS Chalmers insisted.
He half met her gaze, then reluctantly replied, “Yes.”
“You too,” she said to Joe as she strolled away.
“Yes Ma’am,” he replied, zipping his mouth shut to double up his confirmation.
Neither of them had the desire to hang around the station for much longer. The case called to them and they intended to follow. So with a brisk walk through the bustling corridors and a short stop off at the men’s, they made their way into the world, ready and eager for knowledge. What they needed was for something big to land in their laps, something that would show them where to go next.
* * *
Their Mag-Lev journey was a short one, no more than a ten minute ride out to the more densely populated inner city apartment blocks. The end of their line came with a hefty jolt and a stutter from the Mag-Lev car. Conrad knew the line had just suffered yet another disruption, possibly as a result of the accident. Luckily they only felt a slight reaction to whatever had brought part of the line to an abrupt halt. They exited before the trouble could spread further.
They walked in silence to the correct apartment block. Along the way the cause of their Mag-Lev fault became clear; a blown relay, sparking and fizzing behind a tall steel gate. The faulty relay sat beside a small crater that was left behind by the previous relay’s destruction a year-and-a-half ago. Successive overloads of this replacement had left a couple of the nearby buildings with missing sections and dark patches where the smoke had stuck. Conrad had little hope for those in the area, who – like most in the city – now saw such a situation on a fairly regular basis. Repair crews were known to be weeks, if not months, behind. Until the Switchover happened they would be left with what they had, even if it looked highly dangerous.
The thirty floor apartment block they wanted ran the length of the street as one unbroken row. It went on until reaching the end of the road. But rather than stop entirely it carried on around the next few streets to make a large square. The building was like one large closed community that probably housed at least ten thousand families. It was a standard design for the areas where space was at a premium. On the other side of the street was an exact copy, another seemingly closed community.
Oliver’s apartment was on the third floor, which Conrad was immensely grateful for. As he and Joe walked to the place, the hint of an imminent power outage had followed closely behind. It had of course outrun them now. That meant the lifts would be out and their only other option was the stairs. Conrad’s stiff neck and aching feet would be thankful they were not facing a long climb.
Joe pulled the smashed glass door open and let Conrad enter the apartment block first. A teenage boy, wearing a thick hoody, dropped the spray can in his hand the moment he spotted them.
“Hey, stop that,” Conrad called after the kid, who vanished in a flash up the stairs.
The lobby was not much to look at, just the lifts directly in front of them, and a small, unmanned desk to their right. The stairs were to their left. Across the lift doors the words ‘part-time’ had been sprayed, no doubt signalling how often they were without power in the area. The hooded teenager had been in the process of adding the finishing touches to his colourful graffiti when they interrupted him.
“I don’t think we’ll get much help here,” Joe said after checking the tiny office behind the desk for signs of life.
“No, I expect not.”
They took the stairs and were met with immediate suspicion from the residents they passed along the way. The news of their presence was sure to spread around the block soon enough. It was easy for anyone to work out their profession just from the way they looked. Two police officers snooping around would have some residents nervous too. They still greeted the public with a friendly ‘hello’ along the way.
On the third floor a pair approached from the other direction with an eagerness to their pace. Both were women and they looked roughly the same sort of age too, possibly forties by Conrad’s guess.
“Are you here about that shouting last night?” the skinny, freckle faced, woman on the left said.
“Shouting?” Joe asked.
“Told you, they haven’t a bloody clue,” the woman on the right said with a shake of her head.
“We’ve not been called about anything related to that. We’re here about another investigation.” Joe checked his wrist computer to find the name and apartment number they were looking for. “Fuck’s sake,” he said as he dropped his arm in frustration, “I forgot, there’s no damn power around here.”
“Get used to it,” one of the women said with a snigger.
Taking over where Joe had left off, Conrad went against his better judgement and engaged the two members of the public himself. “We came to find an Oliver Bennington, apartment number–”
“That’s the kid whose apartment we’re talking about.” The freckled woman again.
Conrad and Joe looked straight at each other in surprise. Both then sped up and passed the two women without saying anything more. It was clear the case was about to heat up. The question was; were they too late again?
“You think the Crime Detection System was down in the area last night?” Joe asked.
“If it was, it didn’t register as down. We would have seen that on the area check earlier.”
At Oliver’s apartment they looked back to see whether the women had followed. They had and were still talking back and forth about the poor state of things. Included in their complaints was everything from the broken relay network to the stale bread one of them had bought at the local shop. In their own words, ‘the country had gone to shit!’
A knock on the door went unanswered. A turn of the door handle achieved nothing too. They had no idea if Oliver had a flatmate, it had not said anything about one on their records. So whoever had been shouting inside the apartment was someone new. It remained to be seen whether any of it was relevant to the case. Conrad knew there was only one way of finding out.
“Police override on this door,” he said, forgetting that no power also meant no computer assistance. “Oh right. I guess we try it the old fashioned way then.”
Joe stood directly facing the door and asked, “Shouldn’t we get the landlord up here to open the place up?”
“You want to go look for him? We could be here for hours trying to find him. I don’t much fancy waiting around for the power to come back on to get in either, do you?”
“Right, so what, we break in?”
“I’ll clear it with the station later. How’s your kick?”
With a disappointed glance back, Joe went straight in for the kill. His first kick only made a large boot shape on the wood. The door was never going to budge that easily. It took a few kicks to force it in. In the end the lock shattered, throwing splinters across the floor as well as the remains of the metal handle and lock.
Inside the apartment was black and lifeless, with a stale smell escaping as soon as a path had been made. It looked like the curtains had not been opened in days. They had to get some kind of light into the room, the lights were out of the question. Not wanting to search the place in darkness, Conrad went straight for the window. He crossed the tiny lounge area in no more than five steps before reaching the other side, then set about throwing open the curtains.
/> It soon became clear why no-one had answered the door.
“Aaaaaaaah!” one of the women screamed from the hall. She and her friend had been watching like it was an afternoon soap fix, which had suddenly become more of a horror show.
“Get them out,” Conrad shouted the moment he saw the body slumped over the kitchen counter in the corner of the room. While Joe dealt with the shocked and scared women outside, he switched to safeguarding the scene. Everything would need to be left as it had been found, otherwise it was useless to them. He took a mental picture of the room exactly as it was, his back against the light coming in through the window.
The first thing he noticed was the lack of any sign of a struggle. Either there had been no fight or the victim had been overpowered easily. From the looks of the body the poor sod had been an easy opponent to the killer. He had been finished off with little fuss, in what looked to him to be a professional kill too.
Conrad tip-toed over to the body to get a closer look. Immediately he saw there was nothing on the victim’s head, just like with Oliver Bennington. This was now the second person linked to their case who had not gone through the same experience as the rest. Only this time it was not a gunshot that had ended a life but a long piece of wire, wrapped a couple of times around his throat. The force would have crushed the man’s windpipe for sure.
When Joe came back into the room he looked around and then settled on Conrad by the dead man. He scratched his forehead as he inspected the scene from a safe distance. “Another one?” he said.
“Yep, this one’s been garrotted.”
“Shit. What the fuck’s going on?”
Conrad began to check the floor around the body like a cat seeking out a hidden mouse. He knelt down and spun on the spot when he needed to check in the other direction. “Isn’t it clear? The killers are cleaning up after themselves.”
“If that’s true, then what’s this kid got to do with it?”
“Well,” Conrad returned to his feet holding torn edges of paperwork in his hand. There were pieces littered all about the carpet. “We’re not going to find out without a good look around. What do you make of this?”
