Android: Mimic (The Identity Trilogy)

by Mel Odom

  An instant later, I caught hold of the ladder, looked up at the access hole, and leaped up, easily clearing the four meter height and ricocheting from the opening as I flew through. The emergency systems irised the opening closed and sounded an alarm that I knew would draw megapolis safety crews.

  I landed in an alley less than a meter from the opening and realized that I had come up in one of the domed areas in Heinlein. Stars sprinkled the black velvet of space overhead.

  The assassin ran in great leaps and bounds, taking advantage of the microgravity and showing considerable skill at navigating in it. Less skillful, I pursued. As the pursuer, I suffered from an inability to quickly course correct as the assassin did. My momentum kept me moving forward, and every effort I made to overtake him also magnified my mistakes when he changed directions. Thankfully, the enclosed nature of the megapolis’s streets and alleys limited him.

  I couldn’t figure out where he was headed. A mini-hopper suddenly roared out of a nearby alley and collided with the assassin, spilling the man and the female pilot to the ground as the vehicle smashed against the front of a shoe store.

  The assassin was getting to his feet by the time I arrived. But the woman shot him with a Synap pistol and dropped him to the ground.

  “Stand back. I am Detective Drake 3GI2RC with the NAPD. This is my—”

  Dressed in black street armor under a lightweight duster that looked a lot like the one I was wearing, the woman whirled around to face me. She was Asian, in her middle thirties, with coal black hair razored to her jawline. She held up her PAD.

  “I am Licensed Security Agent Chyou Xiang operating under the authority of Argus, Inc.”

  I pinged her e-ID quickly and verified her identity.

  Before I could say anything, she put her PAD away and reached for the unconscious man. “I am claiming this man in the name of Argus, Inc., under corp protection rules.”

  I remained where I was. “This man just murdered three people. My jurisdiction takes precedence.”

  Chyou smiled at me, but there was no humor in the expression. “I’m afraid, Detective Drake, this is where our legal representatives will have to figure out who is more entitled. For the moment, I have arrested this man, and I will—”

  The front of the unconscious man’s faceplate shattered and blood filled the inside of his helmet as it jerked back.

  The rest of her words were lost in the sharp crack of a high-velocity bullet.

  Chyou spun from the dead man as another round cut the space where she’d been standing. She sprinted and took cover in a nearby alley just as Royo and Rachel arrived.

  I scanned the nearby rooftops and tried to calibrate where the shot had come from, finally narrowing the location down to two buildings. Both of them were well beyond the range of my weapon. I knew the location wouldn’t matter, though. Whoever had fired the shot was gone.

  All we had left was another body to add to the count.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  You know that woman?” Royo’s question was directed at Rachel Beckman, who sat at the table in the interview room where we’d been placed under Karanjai’s orders.

  Chyou Xiang was in another room, and she was well attended by Argus, Inc. attorneys arguing for her release. After all, she’d done nothing wrong. She’d only been trying to arrest a man wanted in connection to the death of Gordon Holder.

  “I do.” Rachel sipped from a bottle of water. “We’ve crossed paths before. I knew her from before she was working for Argus, Inc. Both of us had been scrambling to survive on the streets.” She frowned. “But Chyou caught all the corp breaks and ended up pulling Magnus Swan’s fat out of the fire on some deal. I still don’t know all the particulars of that, and you won’t get them from her. She’s one of those old school samurai types, bound to a master to the death. Unless she gets released from her contract.”

  “You knew her, and somehow she found us while we were busy finding Bradbury.” Royo’s tone was definitely an accusation. He leaned against the wall by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

  “Are you trying to say something?”

  “Yeah, I am.” Royo’s words turned heated. “I’m saying that her finding Bradbury so quick after we did is suspicious.”

  Rachel smirked at him. “You think I sold out to her?”

  “Or to Argus, yeah. Color it however you want to.”

  Still wearing that same expression, Rachel started to get to her feet. I got to mine because Royo was my partner and I didn’t want him to get hurt, which I was fairly certain was going to happen.

  Captain Karanjai came through the door, glanced around, took in the situation, and shot them both irritated glances. “Sit down. You guys don’t have time for this.”

  Rachel sat.

  Royo didn’t move from the wall. “Maybe you can help us out. You see, me and Drake were just wondering how it was that Argus, Inc.’s little sechound caught up with us so quick. I’m thinking that maybe—”

  “Chyou was already on the scene and in play. Following her own leads.” Karanjai sat in one of the seats at the table. He waved his PAD over the projector and vid from a seccam came online. “We confirmed her story with footage from a nearby pawn shop.”

  On the vid, the date/time stamp confirmed that Chyou Xiang had been in position in the neighborhood for twenty minutes before our arrival at the apartment unit.

  Royo cursed and shook his head. “How did she get there?”

  Rachel smiled. “I told you she was good at what she did.”

  “She was following this man.” Karanjai adjusted his PAD again and a front and profile shot of a man appeared over the table.

  The man was African-American, handsome and strong-looking. Tattoos marked his shaved head, his cheeks, and his chin. His name and bio ran below. Scipio Chipembere was a licensed mercenary, lately from the colonies and currently unassigned.

  Curious, Royo came over, leaned his hands on the table, and stared at the face. “Who’s that?”

  I had already accessed the NAPD database, but I let Karanjai make the announcement.

  “That’s the man Drake was pursuing. The bullet that killed him didn’t leave the medical examiner much of a face—or a head—to work with, but we got lucky. This guy’s prints were on file.” Karanjai tapped the PAD again and new footage scrolled through the holo.

  The new vid showed combat sequences that I identified as being on Mars. Chipembere wore a corp-sponsored uniform and fought Martian freedom fighters. The time/date stamp showed the video was nine years old.

  “Is this the most current vid we have on this guy?” Royo sounded as if he couldn’t believe it. “Where’s he been for the last nine years?”

  Karanjai sighed. “Nobody knows. We’re looking into Chipembere now, but the trail is almost non-existent. No one knows how long he’s been on the Moon, or even how he got here. The only reason we have him in the system is because he got popped on a fighting beef three months ago. He paid his fine and disappeared. Otherwise we wouldn’t have anything at all on this guy.”

  “Somebody brought him from Mars to the Moon.” Rachel stared at Chipembere. “I know a guy who has a soft spot for vets. A cargo captain who runs mercs back and forth on mercy missions.”

  “Mercy missions?” Royo looked at her.

  Rachel nodded. “Guys who get too hot over in the colonies. Guys that are wounded, or maybe hunted by freedom fighters. The colonies aren’t a place to get well-known if you want to keep a low profile. He—and some of his buddies—bring those guys back and let them chill, maybe get some face work done, so they can go back over at a later time.”

  “Why would they want to go back?” Royo watched the vid footage roll as Chipembere fought for his life against encroaching Martian freedom fighters. “Man, if somebody got a chance to get off-planet and stay, I don’t see why they wouldn’t take it.”

  Rachel sipped her water. “They say that Mars gets in your blood. You go over, you bleed on the red planet, you bec
ome part of it.”

  Royo looked at her with new curiosity. “You ever been over there?”

  For a second, Rachel hesitated before answering. “Yeah. The planet didn’t take with me, though. Too far from home, and you don’t know who you can trust over there. I prefer Earth or the Moon.” She blinked and I could almost see the disconnect she made from the memories she had of her time over there. She’d left something of herself there, and for one uncomfortable moment, I thought I knew how she felt. The impression was disconcerting in a way I couldn’t define.

  I turned my attention back to Chipembere. “Do we know who killed this man?”

  Karanjai shook his head. “No. The seccams didn’t pick up anything. An area filled with people, and nobody saw anything.”

  “That’s because everyone was watching Drake and Chyou.” Rachel shrugged. “They occupied center stage.”

  “Yeah, but I’m figuring Chipembere got taken out by his own team.” Karanjai scowled. “He got killed because he got taken. Nobody wanted him talking to anybody. Which means that he knew something worth killing over.”

  Royo took in a deep breath and let it out. “Evidently Quentin Bradbury did, too. Otherwise they wouldn’t have killed him.”

  I looked at the captain. “How did Chyou find out about Chipembere?”

  The captain showed me a mirthless smile. “You get to ask her that yourself. Commissioner Dawn has requested that we share what we know about the Gordon Holder investigation with Chyou—and Argus, Inc.—to combine forces.”

  Royo was immediately suspicious. “Why?”

  “In the interest of community relations.” Karanjai didn’t sound happy about the arrangement.

  “Meaning the commissioner is doing Magnus Swan a favor.”

  Karanjai looked sharply at Royo. “If you value your career here, you’ll never say it like that again.”

  Royo’s face reddened and he gave a short, unhappy nod.

  Karanjai stood and cleared the holo. “As you’ve noticed, the woman is good at what she does. Maybe this joint effort will be a good thing.” But he didn’t sound like he believed it.

  * * *

  Instead of talking at NAPD HQ, Chyou wanted to go to a Tex-Mex restaurant she favored in Heinlein’s inner sprawl. There was enough renovation work being done there to guarantee a lot of white noise generators in use in various businesses so listening in on a conversation would be difficult.

  We sat at a table in the back. Rachel and Chyou dug into their meals, but Royo abstained. He still acted upset about the working relationship.

  “So what tripped you to Chipembere? How did you know to be there?” Rachel dipped a burrito into salsa and took a bite.

  Chyou finished chewing and swallowed. “I’ve been following a group of mercs for the last week. Magnus Swan wasn’t completely taken off guard by his son-in-law’s penchant for independent business.”

  “Magnus Swan didn’t have anything to do with this?” Royo’s tone remained challenging.

  Chyou swung her harsh gaze on him. Her eyes were hidden by wraparound sunglasses that had hidden circuitry in them. I had examined some of the eyewear’s parameters and learned that the lenses had various functions, including x-ray, telescopic, and targeting features. I didn’t know what else lurked there.

  She was a most interesting woman.

  “No, Mr. Swan did not.” Her voice was ice and threat.

  Royo leaned back in his chair a little, but he didn’t let it go. “You know that for a fact? Or is that what Swan told you?”

  Chyou’s black lacquered nails drummed briefly on the tabletop. Her face remained expressionless.

  Rachel spoke to Royo but kept her gaze on Chyou the whole time. “Back off, Royo, or I’m going to make you sit at the kiddie table.”

  Chyou grinned slightly at that and her mood seemed to lighten.

  Royo grimaced. “You’re taking a lot on faith, Beckman.”

  “With some people, you can. I give you my word about Chyou, so either that’s good enough, or you pick up and leave.” Rachel switched her gaze to Royo. “Choose now, and live with that choice.”

  Angrily, Royo took in a deep breath and let it out. He looked at me. I had not moved. Then he nodded. “Fine.”

  “Good.” Rachel returned her attention to Chyou. “Tell us about the merc unit.”

  Chyou picked up her taco again and seemed more relaxed. “I found them in Gordon Holder’s sec teams. Guys who cycled in and out regularly. Men and women who had ties to Mars. There was a group of them, and they were careful about the rotation. At first I thought they were there to spy on Skorpios Defense Systems.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “Routine check. Mr. Swan has me oversee all of his holdings.” Chyou frowned, plucked a piece of cheese from her taco, popped it into her mouth, and ate as she gathered her thoughts. “I almost missed them. They knew about me and they were taking steps to avoid detection. Only one thing gave them away. This.” She waved her free hand over her PAD.

  A holo of a chimera broadcast into the air ten centimeters above the PAD.

  I recognized the tattoo at once, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I noticed this tattoo on one of them.” Chyou stared at the image. “It caught my eye.”

  “I remember you were always big on mythology.” Rachel caught the holo with a corner of her finger and spun it around to look at it from her perspective. The PAD adjusted the image accordingly, rotating the image.

  “Still am. I like the old stories. This one’s Greek. Do you know it?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “The chimera’s mother was messed up, too. Her name was Echidna and she’s called the ‘Mother of All Monsters,’ and was supposed to be half woman and half snake.”

  “Like a naga.”

  “Yes.” Chyou stared at the chimera. “The mercs caught my attention by mistake. I spotted the tattoo a week ago, then started backtracking through the sec personnel records. I turned up nine mercs—six men and three women—who had these tattoos. When I discovered that one of the men that hijacked the tube car after Gordon Holder was killed had this tattoo, I kept watch over the one currently working at Skorpios. I followed him and he led me to Quentin Bradbury.”

  “Chipembere had a chimera tattoo.”

  Chyou touched the side of her neck. “Here.”

  “You say you spotted the chimera tattoo a week ago.” Chyou turned her attention to me as I spoke. “You’re assuming you happened upon the link.”

  “I did.”

  “What if you were supposed to find it?”

  “Why?”

  “To know what you know now. That these mercs are somehow involved in Holder’s murder and the illegal gun factory.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. We almost caught these guys.”

  “Except that we didn’t. Someone had a sniper standing by who killed the man you apprehended. Quentin Bradbury is now also deceased. And stress between Earth and the colonies is rising by the minute.”

  Chyou didn’t take long to digest that. “You think that was a setup?”

  “I’m just acknowledging the fact that it could be. You were alerted through your appreciation of mythology. If these people have been involved with Skorpios for as long as you say they have been, it seems that they managed to stay invisible.” I turned over a hand. “Until they chose not to be. If they’ve been that good up till now, what changed?”

  Chyou scowled and looked at Rachel. “I don’t like how your new friend thinks.”

  A troubled look flitted across Rachel’s face as well. “Neither do I. And I like the possibility that I’m being led by the nose even less.” She took in a breath. “But Drake is right. This could be all smoke and mirrors. This merc unit has kept things tight as long as they’ve been in bed with Skorpios. If that’s even been what’s going on. So why do they screw up all of a sudden? Why in such a big fashion?”

  “Because maybe it’s been a production.” Royo sipped his s
oft drink. “Something I noticed about our recently dead guy.”

  Rachel gave him a sarcastic look. “Which one?”

  “The one Chyou took down.” Royo brought up a vid of the confrontation with the man who had killed Quentin Bradbury and his two bodyguards. This vid had come through the Medical Examiner’s office. Evidently Karanjai had put a rush on the work. Their animation teams had recreated the moment of impact without the man’s helmet using images they’d gotten from the morgue and the dead man’s files. Royo froze the vidstream when Chipembere was shot. The angle showed the man’s neck as his head was struck by the sniper’s bullet.

  Royo stuck his forefingers into the holo and drew them apart, enlarging the image. The chimera tattoo grew and rippled as the pixels smoothed.

  Rachel shook her head. “Chyou already told you that tattoo was there.”

  “Yeah. But I know ink.” Royo grinned and placed a call to the medical examiner’s office. He cleared the cut-outs and talked to the diener responsible for handling the body in the morgue. She had a pronounced German accent and looked overworked and fatigued.

  “What can I do for you, Detective Royo?” She smiled and looked like she might have been happy to hear from Royo.

  “I need you to check on the body we sent you today.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “It’s not today anymore, Detective. That was yesterday.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “No problem. What am I looking for?”

  “The tat on his neck.” Royo touched his own neck. “Here.”

  In the vid, the diener pulled out one of the morgue vaults and lifted the sheet that covered Chipembere’s body. She looked at the body, then pulled in the vid to survey the chimera tattoo.

  “It’s there. Now what?”

  “How old is it?”

  She examined the tattoo. “I still see some scabbing in the ink under magnification. I’d guess that it’s seventy-two hours to maybe one hundred twenty hours old.”

  “He’s got other tats?”

  “He does.”

  “Any other new ones?”

  She pulled the sheet from the body and examined the limbs and torso, front and back. “No. That’s the only one.” She looked up at the cam. “Is there anything else?”