“Detective Eileen Reed,” Eileen said to the man, and shook his hand.
“Here's the list of names,” Blaine said, and handed a clipboard to Eileen. She took the list and looked at it briefly. There were three sets of names, one marked “Observers”, one marked “Commanders” and one marked “Gamers.” Nelson Atkins headed up the list. Next to his name was written “Game Director.”
Eileen waved a hand to the chairs in the conference room. Atkins went in and took a seat immediately.
“I need to talk to Colonel Willmeth about the secure phone line,” Blaine said apologetically, from the doorway. “You’ll stay here until I return.”
“That’s fine,” Eileen said with a glittering false smile, as though he’d asked her a question instead of giving her an order. She closed the door behind Blaine and took a seat. The chairs were comfortable, almost plush, with a dull geometric pattern in heavy fabric. The backs were very high and the arms were padded. The other chairs stood in random positions around the table. After a moment, Eileen realized the chairs were left in the positions they rolled to when the last people to sit in them had gotten up. There was a white board along one wall. It was written and re-written on so many times the latest writings were hard to read over the poorly erased ghosts of the old. Eileen studied the board for a moment. She couldn't make heads or tails out of the hieroglyphics. There were circles connected by lines and phrases connected by pluses and brackets, as though someone had tried to do Algebra with words instead of X's and Y's.
“Enable Command Authority equals time plus check plus switch?”
Atkins looked bewildered and followed Eileen’s gaze to the white board. He smiled faintly. “Data Dictionary Entries,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“It's called structured software design. It's a way of engineering software so you get exactly what you want, every time,” Atkins replied patiently. Faint color washed across his forehead and his shoulders rose a little. “We use it in combination with Object Oriented Design. It works well.”
“I see,” Eileen said gently, although she didn't. She really wanted to see Atkins get his feet under him a little. This was her territory, the interviews. Jim always had her do the interviews. If he were here, he would be rewinding the Game tapes and watching them, and they would compare notes later.
“Let's talk about what happened. I know you're upset.”
“Of course, of course,” Atkins said anxiously. “Anything I can do to help. This is terrible, just terrible.” He scrubbed at his face with a shaking hand.
“What happened, Mr. Atkins?”
“I don't know, Miss... Er?”
“Reed. Call me Eileen.”
“Miss Reed. She was fine when she went into the Ground Weapons station. She closed her door, and I went into my room, and closed my door. Then I came out when the ground interceptors didn't fire --”
“The what?”
“The ground interceptors. She was supposed to release them to fire at the incoming RVs. Er, re-entry vehicles. Nuclear bombs.”
“Who opened the door to her room?”
“I did. I went to see why she hadn't -- hadn't.” Atkins stopped.
“Just take your time, Mr. Atkins,” Eileen said.
“I'm okay,” Atkins said, and wiped at his upper lip. “I opened the door and saw her.”
“What did you see?”
Atkins looked at her blankly. “I saw she had something in her back, that she looked like she was dead.”
“Did you touch her?”
“No, I didn't. I turned away, I -- I couldn’t believe it.”
“Was she moving when you opened the door?”
“No,” Atkins said after a moment. “No she was still. She didn’t look asleep, even. She looked like a doll. Not alive.”
“Did anyone else touch that door or enter the room?”
“I don't think so. I closed it before Major Blaine got there. He didn't open it.”
“Okay. Let me ask you some questions about Terry. How long had she worked for you?”
“About a year and a half. I can get her personnel file for you.”
Eileen nodded and made a note.
“Please do. Where did she work before this?”
“Digital Equipment Corporation. She was laid off along with about two hundred other people. It had nothing to do with her work performance.”
“Why did you hire her?”
Atkins flushed and pressed his lips together. “I think that's obvious.”
“Obvious?” Eileen was puzzled.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you knew. Lowell Guzman is our Assistant Game Director. Lowell recommended her highly. We have regulations about hiring relatives, but since she would be reporting to me and not to Lowell, the regulations didn't apply.”
Eileen glanced down at his list. “Lowell Guzman, Assistant Game Director.” Sure enough.
“Lowell is her brother? Her husband?”
“Husband, I'm sorry.”
“Her husband was here? Where is he?”
“He’s in the conference room. The Base paramedic gave him a shot. He’s pretty woozy right now.”
“I’ll talk to him when he comes out of it a bit,” Eileen said, making notes. “Were she and Lowell getting along?”
“Lowell loved her,” Atkins said angrily. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say she was murdered,” Eileen said calmly. “Now did she and Lowell get along?”
“I think they did,” Atkins said, deflated. “They never fought as far as I know.”
“Okay then. Did she have any enemies?”
Atkins hesitated too long before answering.
“No, I don't think so.”
“Really?” Eileen asked gently. Atkins seemed to huddle back in his chair. The gray hair seemed darker against the paleness of his face.
“Miss Reed, I don't know how to say this --”
“Just try,” Eileen said.
“Okay. Terry was not popular. She wasn't a -- an easygoing kind of person. But if you arrest anyone here on suspicion just because they didn't like her, you're going to ruin their lives.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean it. If you arrest me, I'll lose my clearance. It's doubtful I'll get it back. The same is true of --” Atkins swept a pale arm from the chair, “ -- everyone here. I don't want to make you upset, Miss Reed. But if you arrest someone who turns out to be innocent, you'll probably have a lawsuit on your hands.”
“Are you threatening me?” Eileen asked mildly.
“No, no,” Atkins said, aghast. “I'm not. I'm just asking you to be -- careful, that's all. I'll tell my people to work with you. I just -- it's just...”
Atkins ran out of steam. He scrubbed at his face again.
“I suppose I can restrict my wild tendency to arrest everyone in sight, Mr. Atkins,” Eileen said dryly. “And in return I assume I'm going to get complete cooperation with everyone?”
“Everyone, I swear it,” Atkins said gratefully. He nodded, and nodded again, and kept nodding his head for the rest of the interview as though the nod motor had shorted out somewhere and wouldn't shut off. He told Eileen he'd gone out for coffee once, to the bathroom once, and stayed in the main room for the rest of the Game. He hadn't seen anything or noticed anything.
He plucked at the hairs on his arm while Eileen finished up her notes.
“Bring me Lowell Guzman, please,” Eileen said.
“Okay.” Atkins shot to his feet and left the room with palpable relief.
Eileen sat and drummed her fingers on the comfortable chair arm, and looked at the queer drawings on the white board. She made a little whistling mouth, but didn't whistle out loud. She looked at the list again. There were seven names:
Nelson Atkins -- Game Director.
Lowell Guzman -- Assistant Game Director.
Arthur Bailey -- Truth Team Leader.
Joe Tanner -- Software Engineer
Roberto Espinoza -- Software Engin
eer
Doug Procell -- Software Engineer
Sharon Johnson -- Software Engineer.
“What the hell's a Truth Team?” Eileen said to herself. The door opened. The man who walked in was handsome in a way Eileen liked immediately; strong face, lanky body, big hands. He wore a suit elegantly because he had good lines, but Eileen immediately noticed the color change at the seams and the splotch of mustard along the dark sleeve. His hair was brown and mussed. His eyes were pale green and red-rimmed, as though he’d been crying. He smelled of Dial soap and fresh anxious sweat.
“Lowell Guzman?” Eileen asked, rising.
“No, I’m Joe Tanner,” the man said. “Lowell is really out of it. Whatever the paramedics gave him knocked him right out. Nelson said to come on in and when Lowell wakes up he’ll send him in.”
“All right,” Eileen said, not meaning it. She sat down and gestured for Tanner to take a seat. “I need to ask you some questions, Mr. Tanner. Can you help me?”
“Joe, please. Yes,” Tanner said. He sat down and pressed the back of his hand to his eyes and then his nose. With a complete lack of self-consciousness, he wiped his wet hand on the expensive wool of his suit. He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“When did you know that Terry was dead?”
“The same time everyone did,” Tanner said. “When Nelson opened the door and we saw her.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw Terry -- well, no, I saw Nelson first. He turned away from the door and bent over like he was going to throw up. I saw Terry in her room and she was lying over her keyboard. There was something sticking out of her -- her back. Then someone screamed and I realized she was dead. I turned away.”
“Did you see Terry after that?”
“Nelson closed the door,” Tanner said. “I didn't look anyway.”
“Was she moving when the door opened?”
Tanner blinked hard. “No. I didn't see her move. Why do you ask?”
“I want to know when she died,” Eileen said.
“Oh,” Tanner said in a dazed voice. He was very pale.
“Did you know Terry?”
“Not really. I worked with her, but we weren't friends.”
“Do you know someone who would want to kill her?”
Tanner looked down at his own large hands, as though he were trying out the idea on himself. He opened his palms wide and looked at them.
“No,” he said finally. “I don't. I really don't.”
Eileen nodded. She expected that answer from everyone she questioned. At first, that is. Later, when the heat turned up on all of them, someone would start to talk.
“OK then, let me ask you some questions about today. Tell me what you did today.”
“I work on the Truth Team during the Game,” he replied obediently. “I watch the true picture of the War. We have to --”
“What do you mean, 'Truth Team'? And what’s a ‘true picture’?”
“Um. Well, we play both teams -- Enemy and American. Because our satellite and intelligence operations might screw up, just like in real life, the Simulation tries to duplicate that by rolling the dice.”
Tanner smiled at her confused expression, the first smile she'd seen.
“Let me explain. Say you think a submarine is 300 miles north of Bermuda. What if it's actually 100 miles south? The American Team sees a little submarine flag north of Bermuda, and the Truth Team sees a little submarine flag south. The Enemy side would have proper coordinates for their own subs and missiles, but they'd have best guesses for ours. The Truth Team knows what we call 'truth', so we can analyze the Game data later and figure out how the system worked.”
“So where's the Enemy Team?” Eileen was confused. Were there Gamers she didn't know about?
“Oh, well, we play the Enemy Team for the Games, mostly. Today it was a full-scale Game with Flag Officers involved. So the Germans played the “Mad Sub” scenario this time, with real missiles. But they were duds, you know.”
“I would hope so,” Eileen murmured, feeling even more confused.
“We usually play the Bad Guys in the Truth Room. Sometimes I play the Chinese, the Arabs, the Japanese...”
“The Japanese? You've got to be kidding.”
“No,” Tanner said. “We play everybody. I mean everybody. I've played a War Game where Great Britain tries to take us back as a colony. I liked that one. I guess you know this is all classified. Major Blaine said to tell you everything we could.”
“Yes, I have a clearance. So you play Bad Guys and you know the true state of the Game,” Eileen said. She fought another distressing moment of doubt, and cursed Harben for getting her into this mess. “You have your own room in the Center for this?” At his nod, she said “Did you leave your room during the Game today?”
“No, I didn't,” Tanner said. He was starting to look a little better, but now the color drained away from his cheeks again. “Art and I were there the whole time, and we sit in the same room. Doesn't that mean we both have alibis?”
Eileen didn't say anything.
“Yeah, I guess not. We could be in on it together, right? Or maybe I sneaked out while he wasn't looking, or the other way around. It would be tough, though,” he added, “‘cause we have to talk a lot to keep the Game running smoothly. We also monitor all the computer equipment, and feed the loops in for the President and SAC -- Strategic Air Command.”
“I see,” Eileen said neutrally. Tanner nodded in understanding.
“Sure, you have to have proof.”
“Let's talk about Terry again. Why wasn't she liked around here?”
If Tanner was uncomfortable with the rapid change of subject, he didn't show it.
“Did Nelson tell you we didn't like her much?” he asked, then held up his hand. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask you that. Don't answer.”
“Okay,” Eileen said, smiling. “I won't. Tell me why you didn't like her.”
Tanner thought this over for a moment.
“I -- well, Terry wasn't a very good engineer,” he said carefully. “I would have to explain something to her three or four times, and if I didn't write her a memo and date it and keep a copy, she'd come back and say I never told her the information. I don't know how to express this -- when you work together as closely as we have to, you have to develop trust. And the Simulation world is a wicked place. You'll be half-way through the development cycle and all of a sudden the whole world will change. When the lab at Lawrence Livermore got that Brilliant Pebble to really work, we had Space Command hammering at our door, wanting to hook up Brilliant Pebbles into our simulation right away.”
“A lot of the technology we just have to extrapolate. That means we make it up, on the fly. Lots of stuff is still being tested. Some of the stuff is only theoretical. So we take what we know and make up the rest. What's the flight characteristics of a Patriot Missile? Well, we use data from the Gulf War, take into account the improvements, and simulate nuclear missile impacts instead of Scuds. What happens to a Patriot when the sensors are blinded by a nuclear flash? How do you succeed in target acquisition when you've got sophisticated jamming...”
Tanner stopped. He’d been making a speech.
“Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Go on,” Eileen said quietly. She loved people who babbled. Babbling was good. Babbling was great.
“I guess I’m not even talking about Terry. But then again, maybe I am. When you walk into a software engineer's office and you tell them to drop all their work on a space-based laser and start working to Brilliant Pebbles, you need someone who'll shove six months of work onto a back shelf and smile when they do it. And produce a Brilliant Pebble simulation that'll work.”
“And Terry wasn't like that.”
“No,” Tanner said, and his gaze dropped to his hands. “I guess she'll never get any better now.”
“What did Terry do when you asked her to simulate Brilliant Pebbles?”
“She complained. That's okay, everybody
does. But she would do it in a really mean and ugly sort of way. One time 'Berto forgot about an interface -- hmm, an interface is a way for two elements to communicate, okay? 'Berto was working on a communications satellite model, and he forgot about some jamming information that Terry needed to be aware of for her work. So he went to tell her, and I overheard her really giving it to him rough, if you know what I mean.”
“What did she say?”
“Oh, something like, 'Thanks for forgetting this, 'Berto, is there anything else you've forgotten?' in that biting Terry sort of way. But when she'd forget something, which was always happening, you know, that's just the way it works, well, she'd pretend that she told you and you forgot.”
“And you let her get away with it?”
“Well, Miss -- Er?”
“Reed. Call me Eileen,” Eileen said, and couldn’t help smiling again.
“Miss Reed, we had a saying here on the War Game Team, just between us little guys. The saying was, 'Whatever Terry wants, Terry gets.'“
There was a little silence. Eileen wrote, knowing Tanner was flushing without looking up, keeping her eyes to her notebook to give him space to recover.
“Because Lowell Guzman is Assistant Game Director.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Would someone kill her because of that?” Eileen asked. “And why?”
“I don't think so. I don't know,” Tanner said. He looked at her with a clear green, anxious gaze, asking for her to somehow understand that he didn’t do it, he would never murder Terry Guzman. Eileen had often seen the look before, sometimes on a murderer’s face.
“Thanks for your help,” she said neutrally. “I'll probably be contacting you again, but if you think of anything, could you call me at this number?” She held out her card.
“Okay,” he said, and nodded exactly like Atkins, an eager jerk of the chin. Another suspect glad to escape the clutches of the police, Eileen sighed to herself. He took the card and stood up.
“Let me walk you out,” she said, getting up. “Maybe you could direct me to the john? And maybe the coffee machine?”
Tanner showed her to the bathrooms but he was gone when she came out. Eileen figured she'd missed her chance for coffee, but when she got back to the conference room there was a plain blue mug on the table near the chair where she'd been sitting. A ribbon of steam rose from the cup into the air, and her next suspect was already seated and waiting for her.
Ground Zero Page 6
