by Simon Haynes
Their offices hadn't been far. The building was a two-story concrete affair with a large car park, the whole surrounded by a rusty old fence. The men had walked through the front gates, which looked like they hadn't been closed for years, but Alice decided to take a different approach. She couldn't see any cameras, but if there were any they'd probably be pointing at the entrance, not halfway round the back. So, she slipped down the side until she found what she was looking for: a section of fence which had come away from the posts. She eased it up from the ground, rolled underneath, then ran across the concrete wasteland bent double.
She stopped at the building, her back to the wall. The front entrance was nearby, but that was no good. Instead, she needed a side entry. Sidling along the wall, she found a small door next to a boarded-up window. It was locked, unsurprisingly, but she removed one of her many piercings and straightened the metal hook into a crude lockpick. Within moments she had the door unlocked, but then she hesitated. If there was a sensor, alarms would go off everywhere. And if that happened, she'd have to run like stink.
Alice took a couple of deep breaths, then turned the handle and tugged. The door was warped and stiff, and it groaned softly as she pulled it open. A shower of dirt and rotted wood pattered on the doorstep, but there was no alarm.
Just as well they didn't store gold bars there, she thought. Then again, Dismolle only had two cops, so crime obviously wasn't a problem. She stuck her head around the door frame and saw a disused storeroom, crammed with old wooden crates and plastic barrels. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, and most of the junk had been piled up against the door. She wondered if the people who worked here even knew it existed. Slipping inside, she pulled the door to and made her way between the junk until she reached the entrance. The door wasn't locked, and she opened it a crack and peered out.
Then she froze. Standing five paces away, with his back to her, was a man in a white lab coat, and he was talking to one of the men she'd been following. It was the blonde one, the guy Harriet called Canitt.
"Everything's within tolerances, sir. Nothing to report."
"Well done, Manning. We're back for the day now, so you might as well take a break."
"Thanks, sir."
"Oh, and send the daily logs to my terminal. I want to take a closer look at the new strain."
"Right away, sir."
The men separated, with lab coat heading further away down the hall and Canitt walking right past her door. She drew back as he passed, then slipped out a few moments later and followed him. She wanted to gather as much info as she could before she left, and she could only imagine Harriet's face when she told her she'd got right into the building.
That was an hour ago, and Alice now realised she'd taken the training mission a little too far. Right now she would have been happy to see Harriet's face whatever her expression: even raging anger.
On the upper floor Alice had avoided two guards with blasters at their hips, and in getting away from them she'd ended up deep underground. Taking the stairs down had been a nightmare, with a well-lit stairwell and doors on each landing … doors that might burst open any minute.
She'd made it, though, but now she was stuck. Above her, there were footsteps. Ahead of her, there was a door, which she'd peeped through earlier. There was a corridor on the other side, with a set of glass doors. And on the wall, a card swipe with a baleful red light. There was no way through, not even with her makeshift lock pick.
Every now and then, from her hiding position, she heard the doors opening and closing. Each time she heard the distant hum of equipment, the whirr of heavy machinery, and the sound of people talking. Even if she managed to limp through the doors, the area on the other side was busy and she'd be spotted instantly.
The footsteps passed by, and she saw a guy in a lab coat walking down the passageway. The stairs had been far busier than she expected, and there was no way she'd be able to crawl all the way to the top floor without being seen. And what would she do when she got there? Try and talk her way out of the place? Some chance. She'd tried that with a few freighter crews over the years, and it had never ended well. Verbal abuse, beatings … and that time one particularly nasty captain had pushed her into the airlock and threatened to space her. She'd only been twelve at the time.
Lips pressed together, her face twisted with pain, Alice told herself the guards probably wouldn't shoot her, even though her experience as a stowaway taught her otherwise. Whether they fired or not, there would still be a gigantic fuss and Harriet's training mission would be ruined.
So, she stayed right where she was, waiting for everyone to pack up and go home for the night. After that, alone and in the dark, she'd crawl up the stairs to freedom.
Chapter 17
The cruiser pulled up to the kerb about a block from Canitt's premises. It was getting on for five o'clock, and the shadows were lengthening. Some of the shops were closing for the day, and most of the cars Harriet saw were ferrying people out of the area.
Before long it would be dark, and deserted. And cold, too.
Harriet was about to get out of the cruiser when her commset rang, startling her. She reached for it, but before she could answer Bernie's face appeared on a screen set into the dash. "I was just leaving," said Harriet. "What's the problem?"
"I have been reviewing the facts of the case, Trainee Walsh, and we must discuss matters immediately."
"You're joking! I'm supposed to see Canitt in about five minutes."
"This is vital, Trainee Walsh. I have uncovered a case of serious financial fraud."
"Do we have to talk about it right now?"
"Indeed we do. I have been studying hospital records, particularly the department you visited earlier."
"Bernie —"
"No, this has a vital bearing on your case. Please hear me out."
"If I really must."
"Over the past three years that section of the hospital has turned their finances around. They were deep in the red, but now they're making a healthy profit. A profit which is far higher than other similar facilities."
"Okay, look, if you just want to talk about accounting …" began Harriet angrily.
"Listen to me!" said Bernie urgently. "Listen until I've finished, and don't interrupt."
"Fine, do it your way. So they're making lots of cash. What do they do, cosmetic surgery?
"No, that department handles organ transplants. It's a huge business on Dismolle, as you can imagine. A great number of elderly people in need of spare parts."
Walsh remembered the small cooler box. "Oh hell. You mean it wasn't samples of meat? He was delivering human organs?"
"Relax, Trainee Walsh. Replacement organs are grown in vats, not harvested from human beings."
"Let me guess, the process is similar to growing that fake meat stuff."
"Correct."
"So what's the problem? Does it matter whether Canitt's growing hearts, lungs or chicken wings?"
"How much do you think a replacement heart is worth?"
"I don't know. A few hundred, maybe?" Bernie told her, and she whistled in surprise. "How come? You said the process is the same for organs and chicken, and I can tell you now, no airline is going to pay fifty grand per bowl of curry."
"Trainee Walsh, what do you know about the taxation system?"
"Nothing, and that's twice as much as I want to."
"Then I shall explain. Tax on Dismolle is collected via three different —"
"Don't worry, I've got this." It was getting dark now, and Alice was still out there somewhere. Bernie had given her the general idea, and now it was time for action. Harriet reached for the door, intending to get out, but to her surprise it was locked. "Steve, open the door."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Harriet."
"That wasn't a request, it was an order!"
On the screen, Bernie shook her head. "I ordered the doors locked after you got in. Since I outrank you, your orders are ineffective."
Frustrated, Harriet pounded her fist on the side of the door. She realised she had no choice but to hear the robot out, so she sat back in the chair and crossed her arms. It was like one of Auntie's telling-offs: if she sat through it without interrupting, it'd be over all the sooner.
Meanwhile, Bernie continued with her explanation. "… so you see," said the robot at last, "the Dismolle tax office levies almost the entire retail price of a replacement organ. This is to account for the extremely high average age of the population, which means there are almost no wages from those of a working age, thus …"
Harriet drummed her fingers impatiently. Waiting for Auntie to finish lecturing had never been her strong suit. "Okay, okay," she said at last. "The government charges old people a fortune for replacement bits and pieces. So why can't I go in and find Alice?"
"Because Canitt is involved in a major case of financial fraud."
Oh, here we go again, thought Harriet. "If you're in a tizz because he refused to buy twenty million lottery tickets off you —"
"Trainee Walsh, please do not waste time with irrelevant statements. The point is, Canitt is growing organs, which is legal, but he's selling them to the hospital for half the regular price, which is not."
"It's a free market. He can sell them for whatever he wants, can't he?"
"Negative. He's invoicing the organs as substitute meat products, and thus avoiding all taxes."
"That's pretty smart," said Harriet, admiringly. "Hiding an organ scam behind a legit meat-growing operation is genius."
"You don't understand. There are vast sums of money involved, and that makes Canitt a high-ranking criminal. In order to protect his business, he may go to extreme lengths. For example, he could arrange for a Peace Officer to disappear."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. How would he do that, anyway?"
"Once removed from the body, it would be almost impossible to tell a fresh, human organ from one grown in a vat."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that," said Harriet. She remembered the chicken curry on the plane, and almost threw up. Did Canitt get rid of his enemies by … No, she thought, shaking her head. Now she was just being silly. Then she had a far worse thought. "Alice!" she whispered. "If they caught her snooping around …"
"You are finally beginning to understand the danger," said Bernie. "In order to confront Canitt you will need your uniform, body armour …"
Harriet looked down at herself. If she was going to storm the building she'd need a load of guns and lots of backup. Since they weren't available, she'd have to use her wits instead. "Steve, if you don't let me out I'll never take you to the beach."
"Trainee Walsh—" began Bernie urgently, but before she could finish speaking, her face winked out.
"Thanks Steve," murmured Harriet, as the door hissed open. She got out quickly, before Bernie managed to override the car's systems.
She jogged the length of the block, then slowed as she turned the corner. Across the way she saw Canitt's place, with a chain link fence, a car park with a collection of vehicles, and, set back about a hundred metres from the road, a big two-storey building. There was a low, glass-fronted office extending from the front, and through the windows she could see about a dozen people working at desks. Next to the front doors, wearing a uniform and a gun, stood a guard.
Well, Bernie warned her there was something fishy — or rather, something meaty — going on with Canitt's business, so the guard wasn't a huge surprise. On the other hand, if the place was guarded, how could Alice possibly have got inside? Well, she had to be in there, because it was the only explanation for her disappearance.
* * *
Harriet felt a touch of nerves as she walked up to reception. If Bernie was right, she was putting her head — and her organs — right into the lion's mouth. On the other hand, Bernie's idea of joining the dots was to make hundreds of connections where none should exist. It was possible Canitt's business was legit, and that Bernie had built an entire planet out of a molehill … whatever that was. The robot didn't just grasp at straws, she packaged them by the thousand.
"Can I help you?"
The man behind the counter was about her age. He was wearing a blue shirt, and sported a stylish, three-day growth. Harriet smiled at him, trying not to look like a Peace Force officer investigating his boss. "Mr Canitt, please. He's expecting me."
"Buzzing him now." The man murmured into his headset, and a few moments later a door opened and Canitt walked in. He seemed to be wearing the same crumpled clothes as the day before, but he looked alert and cheerful.
"Harriet! So glad you could make it. Come in, come in."
He showed her into his office, where he waved her to a comfortable chair before taking a seat behind his desk. "I assume you're considering my offer?"
"Yes, but I'd like to know what I'm getting into."
"No problem! There'll be travel, like I said, but mostly you'll be keeping myself and the other two organised. It might get a bit hectic, but I'm sure you can cope."
"Would I be working out of this building?"
"Sure. There's a storeroom out back which we've been meaning to turn into an office. You can fit it out however you like, within budget. Desk, computer, whatever. And I think you'll be happy with the pay. Plus bonuses and allowances, of course."
"Of course." Harriet paused. "Would it be possible to look around? You told me about the proteins, and the fake meat, and —"
"Substi-chew, we call it. Not in public," he added hastily.
"— yeah, that. I'd really like to see how it's made."
"Really? Then you shall have a tour."
Harriet got up, waiting expectantly.
"Oh. You mean right now? Well, I guess there's no time like the present."
Chapter 18
Canitt took her on a quick tour of the office, which had a large open-plan section she'd seen from the outside, with a dozen people working at computers. At the back there were several doors leading to more offices. "We won't disturb them," said Canitt. "They'll be working … or playing computer games."
Harriet smiled, then followed him down a corridor to the rear of the building. On the way he indicated the door to her 'office'. "I won't show you inside, not until it's cleaned up a bit. You'd run away screaming."
"I'm made of stronger stuff," said Harriet, and she opened the door before he could stop her. The room was crammed with plastic barrels and wooden crates, none of them quite big enough to hide Alice. Then she spotted the wooden door half-hidden behind the junk. "You're right, it's a mess," she said, and closed the storeroom quickly before Canitt realised the outside door was ajar. Well, at least she knew how Alice had entered the building. She wondered whether the girl had left the same way, making Harriet's search completely pointless. Then she remembered the bracelet. No, if Alice was outside, Bernie would have tracked her. And if she was somewhere on this floor, Harriet's commset would have beeped.
There was a big loading area at the back of the building, with huge metal doors and a smell of fuel and damp concrete. There was a large truck parked to one side, half-loaded with containers. There were also crates in piles, but now that Harriet knew Alice couldn't be nearby, she wasn't fussed about looking behind every hiding spot.
Canitt took her back to the corridor, where he pressed a call button for the lift. "This leads to the real meat of the operation," he said, and laughed at Harriet's expression. "You'll get used to the jokes."
Beside the lift there was a door, with a sign showing a flight of stairs. With a flash of insight, she knew that's where Alice had gone. No human would take the stairs when the lift was working, which meant the girl could have reached the lower levels unseen. She shook her head at the thought. What was Alice thinking? She'd been excited about following the men, but what possessed her to go breaking and entering? Bernie and Birch had Alice marked down as some kind of career criminal, and while Harriet disagreed with them, the girl wasn't doing herself any favours.
As they ente
red the lift, Harriet was lost in thought. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she spotted Alice. If Bernie was wrong, and this was a legitimate business, then Canitt might insist on charging her with trespass. That wouldn't be so bad, but if Bernie was right, and he was a dangerous crook masquerading as Mr Nice Guy, the mask would come off and she and Alice could end up in someone's chicken curry. She pulled a face. Or maybe as a bunch of spare parts for elderly transplant patients.
Harriet resolved to keep quiet about Alice, if and when she found her. If she spotted her hiding somewhere, she'd signal her to sit tight and wait. Then, perhaps Bernie could fabricate an emergency. Something to evacuate all the people from the building. Something like that old chestnut, a gas leak in the neighborhood. Or, if she were really feeling creative, an invasion of alien organ-snatchers.
They were still descending when Harriet's commset went off with a muffled ping. She'd been expecting an angry call from Bernie, but this was more like a message tone. Still, an angry message from the robot would be almost as bad.
"Aren't you going to get that?" said Canitt.
"Later. I'm … I'm meeting a friend after this."
"Is he good looking?"
Harriet thought of Bernie. "That she's not."
"I'm surprised you got a signal down here. Nobody else does."
"Oh … it's not a message, just a reminder." As she spoke, the commset pinged again. Then again.
"Persistent, isn't it?" said Canitt pleasantly. "Do you have a bad memory?"
"No, it's excellent."
"So you haven't forgotten how to turn the alarm off, then?"
Unwillingly, Harriet took the commset from her pocket, trying to hide it by curling her fingers around the small, plastic body. She glanced down and realised it wasn't beeping because of Bernie's messages. No, it was beeping because it had picked up Alice's bracelet! Hurriedly, she muted the sound, and then she shoved it back in her pocket.
