Miranda's Demons

by Ian Miller

  "I see," Elizabeth said. "But presumably you didn't get me here just to tell me that?"

  "No," Reiner said. "I have news, and very important news."

  "Which is?"

  "I could save Natasha's life."

  "Then why don't you? That might solve your problem, you know, because even Natasha can be grateful."

  "She can be many things," Reiner replied. "In any case, I thought that you might prefer it if Natasha were grateful to you."

  "Why the generosity?"

  "Oh, you can tell Natasha where the information came from, if you so please. But I'd like to know where you stand, which future you want."

  "I see," Elizabeth smiled coldly back. "Well, if I'm to save Natasha, you'd better tell me what you know."

  "I have a spy in Munro's base," Reiner replied. "This evening, Natasha will receive a fixed flower display. At about twelve thirty, the display will detonate, with enough power to kill anyone in that suite."

  "Suppose Natasha's out?"

  "Don't grope at straws," Reiner said coldly. "She will be in, or else some other attempt will be made on her life. Don't even think of spoiling this. Make sure Natasha receives the flowers, then make sure the bomb goes off, and make sure there's some sort of body remaining so that Natasha appears to be dead. If you don't, there'll be other attempts, and next time we won't know from where the attack will come."

  "So you think we should pretend Natasha's dead?"

  "If you wish to save her life," Reiner said. "If you'd rather see her dead, do nothing. Her life is in your hands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to."

  Elizabeth Garrett stared at the table before her. She was only too well aware of the number of times she had wished Kotchetkova dead. Had those wishes been serious, or were they merely expressions of her own inner frustrations? Now, she had the chance to execute them. If she did so and Kotchetkova died, at the same time the only person who was a danger to her future would also die, leaving aside that Roman. What a temptation!

  However, she knew she could not do it. While she might dislike Natasha Kotchetkova, perhaps out of respect for what she herself had failed to be, and while she might yet have to bring about her downfall, she could not stand by and watch her killed by a bomb. She would act, and after looking at her watch, she realized she had better act quickly. The time was seven thirty, and while there was reported to be a long time before detonation, that part of the information might not be correct.

  * * *

  At 0015 hours an enormous explosion ripped through the suite occupied by the Commissioner for Defence. Severe damage was inflicted on the suites immediately above and below, and on all three floors people began streaming towards the staircases. At 0035 hours the first of the ambulances began to arrive. Paramedics began treating the minor injuries, and soldiers began blocking access to the hotel complex. At 0120 hours a stretcher appeared. At one side, a bloodied female hand could be seen. The stretcher was covered with a Federation flag, and as it appeared, the soldiers were called to attention. As the stretcher was carried between a column of soldiers, a NewsCorp camera flashed.

  This photograph of the stretcher, complete with the bloodied hand flashed across all the screens throughout the Federation, and across all the newspapers. Natasha Kotchetkova was dead.

  On board the Actium, Gaius Claudius received a transmission that relayed a Comscreen call from Natasha, informing him that she was indeed still alive, and warning him of what was likely to be broadcast. A number was left where she could be contacted. Gaius viewed the news with mild amusement. He would have been much less amused had he been aware that Harvey Munro was monitoring the call.

  Chapter 8

  Elizabeth Garrett pulled her car into a restricted parking place opposite the MinCorp headquarters. She was only too well aware that Reiner would not like this visit, but she had decided that there was no real reason why two members of the highest governing body in the Federation should not occasionally see each other formally. Not that her present approach was entirely formal. Her vehicle was unmarked, and was one of the smaller electric vehicles available; indeed the cells were so small her effective range was only two hundred kilometers. However, she realized she was not going any distance this day, and she preferred the simpler vehicles rather than the more ostentatious official vehicles.

  She was about to get out when she noticed the figure of Imre Halas on the other side of the street. He approached the main door of MinCorp, looked around, then walked away. Elizabeth slid back into her car and lowered herself as far as she could yet remain able to see what was going on, then she picked up the long range viewing scope found in each Justice car and loaded a tape into the recording module. She smiled whimsically to herself. Here she was, Commissioner for Justice, and she was playing out a junior police surveillance move. Probably not very well either, but she realized suddenly that she was beginning to enjoy herself.

  Halas walked towards the end of the street, then he paused and began to return. He was obviously looking for someone, but who, and why? He had gone about twenty yards back when he paused again, almost as if he had heard something. He looked down, then clearly recognized the occupant of the car. Some words were exchanged, and it appeared that Halas had received a rebuke as he immediately turned and walked quickly back to the MinCorp doorway. Elizabeth quietly placed the viewscope back on the floor of her vehicle and began to think.

  There was no reason at all why Halas should not visit Reiner, or anyone else in MinCorp. Indeed, environmental considerations of mining as a whole should have meant that Halas was a frequent visitor, but then, if he was on official business surely he would have an appointment and he would drive up in an official car, park in an official park, then walk over the road. Instead, he was behaving more like Elizabeth! Except there was that other person, to whom Halas, a Commissioner, had deferred.

  "Sorry lady, but you can't park here. This is for Federation vehicles only."

  Elizabeth jumped slightly, and turned to see a uniformed policeman standing at her window. "Officer" she said, "I am on Federation business."

  "I'm sorry about that," the policeman said, "but it doesn't matter. These spots are reserved for top Federation officials. Now, please move on, or I'll have to give you a ticket."

  "You don't recognize me do you?" Elizabeth said, as she turned to get identification.

  "Please, lady, don't do anything stupid. I really don't wanta shoot."

  She turned around to see the barrel of a gun pointing straight at her.

  "I'm just getting identification!" she protested.

  "Then do it real slow, like!"

  She slowly opened her bag, and withdrew her ID card.

  "Oh, my God!" the officer exclaimed. "Oh hell! I mean, I'm sorry. I didn't realize –"

  "What's your name, officer?"

  "Murphy, sir. I mean –"

  "Murphy, do you like doing parking tickets all day?"

  "Commissioner, please! I –"

  "Officer, I want you to do something for me. Do it well, and you could get promoted. Mess it up, and you're in trouble. Now, the first thing I don't want you to do is to back off and salute, OK? Just stay where you are, and look as if you're issuing a ticket."

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "Now, when I've finished what I've got to tell you, I want you to act as if you'd just moved me on. Then I want you to walk back to the corner as if nothing unusual had happened. Get your partner and his vehicle to park halfway up that street block, and get me a park. I'll drive around the block, and meet you there. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Ma'am, although I –"

  "One of the privileges that go with being Commissioner is that I don't have to worry about wasting your time," Elizabeth said calmly. "Now, go and do what I've ordered, and don't look like you've been ordered!"

  Elizabeth was amused to see Murphy step back, and with a slightly grandiose gesture, so all the world could see if they were looking, he ripped off a citation notice from h
is pad, and threw it almost disdainfully at her. He stepped back and gestured vigorously that she should move at once. Almost sheepishly, Elizabeth started her vehicle and pulled out into the traffic stream.

  When she drove into the street she was amused to see that Murphy had taken over a parking spot reserved for city officials, and one such official was arguing with him. She pulled in behind the police car.

  "Hey, lady! Who do you think you are? Get out of this park! And you, officer, if you're not out of here in two minutes, you're fired from the city force."

  "I'm Garrett, Justice," Elizabeth replied in a steely tone. "If you're not out of here in ten seconds, you'll be arrested for obstructing a Federation Commissioner, and probably as an accessory to the murder of a Federation Commissioner. You will be tormented!"

  The official gaped at her, then fled. She grabbed the recorder from her viewer and immediately strode to the police car.

  "Play the tape," she commanded, "and when you get to the blue car, where the rather corpulent man stops, transfer the occupants images to your terminal, and get me IDs."

  "Yes, Commissioner," Murphy replied. He quickly clipped the tape in, and rapidly found the required section. Elizabeth was most impressed with the speed with which Murphy had the faces transferred to the data files, and the identity search commenced.

  "Sorry, Commissioner, but I can't do it," Murphy suddenly said at last. "It's restricted, and I can't get in."

  "What?" Elizabeth gasped. "What do you mean, restricted?"

  "Some files are restricted," Murphy explained. "I just don't have the rank."

  "Get two special weapons teams here at once," Elizabeth ordered. "Use my code to order them. No sirens to be used within two blocks of this location; bring them in from that direction. Then let me at your terminal."

  Elizabeth's first attempt was no more successful. Her identity card was rejected, and a beautiful young woman's face appeared informing her that the card was obviously stolen, and she should immediately discontinue use of it.

  "Get me your supervisor or I'll melt your fuses!" Elizabeth snarled, and Murphy's jaw dropped as he realized that the image was that of an android.

  Another face appeared.

  "You've got a palm print," Elizabeth said coldly. "You can get a voice print. That will show you this card is genuine. If this computer doesn't show signs of life in the next ten seconds, you're fired!"

  The face at the other end had no idea what to do next, but it obviously decided that compliance was better than defiance, and the screen became alive. The images became identified, and the files began to roll. City policemen.

  "Looks like the end of that excitement," Murphy remarked.

  "Perhaps," Elizabeth shrugged, then she began keying into other files that the New York police probably did not even know existed. More information began to roll: suspicions of having received corporate bribes; personal wealth that could not be accounted for; dropped prosecutions; murder suspect. One corporation stood out by being mentioned several times: GenCorp.

  "I don't believe this," Murphy mumbled.

  "Officer Murphy," the Commissioner said as she turned towards him. "Your future is going to depend significantly on what you do in the next few minutes. Not believing me is a bad start."

  "I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's just that this is so –"

  "I know you don't want to believe it," Elizabeth smiled, as she realized that now she had to reassure Murphy, "and they are only my suspicions right now. Do you know how I got to be Commissioner instead of being a filing clerk?"

  "No," came the awkward response. What a question!

  "Every now and again opportunities come to everyone. I grasped mine, but before you can grasp them you have to see them, and sometimes that means following nothing more than a hunch. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Murphy gulped.

  "Now, this is your opportunity. It may be a very little one, because we're merely following my hunch, but it might be a big one. Either way, you stand to gain, because you can't lose as long as you do what I tell you to do. Are you prepared to do that?"

  "Of course, Commissioner," Murphy replied, feeling distinctly happier, as the responsibility for using his judgment had now dropped away, and he was merely being asked to follow instructions.

  "Good. Now, this is what I want you to do. I want you to go back around that corner and walk down the near side of the street, as if checking for parking. But don't write out any notices, because that'd only waste time. I want you to take a note of every occupied vehicle. If you can identify the occupants, well and good, but don't worry if you can't. Whatever you do, don't take notes near an occupied vehicle. If you feel you have to write, stop near another vehicle and look as if you're writing out a parking citation. Once you get to the end of the street, come back down the other side. Don't rush, but don't waste time. Got that?"

  "Got it," Murphy replied, and he stepped back and saluted. He quickly ran to the corner, then began to saunter along the path. He returned five minutes later, and Elizabeth was amazed to see that he had a map with every parked vehicle, and, beside three of them, the number of waiting occupants.

  "Well done," Elizabeth congratulated him. "Notice anything about their layout?"

  "This is only a hunch," Murphy started.

  "Well?"

  "I'm not tryin' to say anything's goin' to happen," Murphy gulped, "but it's a good ambush position for anyone coming out of the MinCorp building. There's one car each side, and one directly opposite. But policemen wouldn't ambush anyone. Maybe they're just going to arrest someone."

  "Maybe they are," Elizabeth said, "but this is where I want the special weapons squad deployed. And now, for you, Murphy. Do you want to be a hero?"

  "I'll do my duty," Murphy replied evenly.

  "It's dangerous, and hence voluntary," Elizabeth said, "but it's not suicidal."

  "What do you want?"

  "I want you to walk over to the front door of MinCorp. Look though the door, and you'll see a picture of Max Reiner; he's the President of MinCorp. If either he or the fat man you saw in that clip come out, follow closely behind them. If you see any sign of weapons from the cars you noted, try to warn Reiner. The special weapons men should take care of the assassins, if anything like that happens. Got that?"

  "Got it," Murphy replied. He was clearly worried, but he stepped back, and he and his partner moved to take up their positions. Elizabeth left instructions with the first of the special weapons squad officers as to where they should deploy themselves, then she returned to her original parking position to watch developments.

  * * *

  What a foyer! To think I was worried! Stick out? Hell, you could get lost in this crowd, and they're all looking at these pictures. Yeah, well, I suppose I should too. Otherwise I'll be the only one who isn't, and I suppose that'll make me stick out. Then the Commissioner'll have my guts. Yeah, right, look at the pictures. According to that notice, this is the biggest collection of late twenty-second century art anywhere, and I believe it. Man, there must be hundreds of paintings here. Valuable, too, judging by the security. Armoured glass screens, cameras everywhere, alarms, then there's what you can't see, unless you know what to look for. Up on the ceiling, automated lasers. Anyone carrying a painting without correct authorization will get zapped. Probably easier to rob the Federation Treasury!

  "Would you like information sir? I can tell you anything you wish to know about any art work here, or anything about any of the artists."

  An information android. "How much is all this worth?"

  "Approximately four hundred and eighty million, four hundred and twenty-two thousand, two hundred and twelve fecus."

  "Approximately?"

  "That's its insured value, officer. But its real value is unknown, and never will be known. None is for sale."

  "Suppose someone tried to rob something?"

  "I am sure that you and your officers would prevent that happening sir."

  "I'm hardly ever here," Murphy la
ughed, "so you'd better not be relying on me! But I can see your security is good."

  "I'm sure the MinCorp security chief will be pleased to hear of your approval," the android replied. 'It's not often we get the approval of a parking monitor."

  "Why you cheeky . . ." then Murphy stopped, and laughed. It hurt, though, to have something put over you by a lump of metal. "Then since you're so smart, tell me something."

  "Of course. I am an information android."

  "Why are these so valuable?"

  "Because people were prepared to pay enormous amounts of money for them."

  "Yes, but why? What is it about them that makes them more valuable than, say, something I might paint?"

  "That I can't answer."

  "Hah! So you don't know why they're so valuable?"

  "Perhaps not, but the reason I could not answer your question is that I have not seen any of your work."

  "Jeeze, man, I mean, droid. I can't paint for nuts."

  "I suspect as much, but I can't know until I see it. Excuse me, sir, a lady here looks puzzled."

  Holy mother of Christ! Droids aren't supposed to be like that! And what is it with this stuff anyway? Anyone could do that one. With a bit of practice, anyway. What the hell! Anyway, I didn't come here to be an art critic. I've got a job to do. And won't Maureen and the kids be excited. Here, I'm on a special assignment, for the Commissioner herself! I've even met the Commissioner.

  Maybe that's not such good news. She's gotta be wrong about those men out there. Anything you like, they're on a stakeout. Oh God! Will I be unpopular if this goes wrong! Sure, the Commissioner asked me to do this, but if their stakeout's ruined, it's my ass on the line. Oh, sorry, I was wrong is what she'll say, then she'll disappear back to Federation headquarters, and somebody'll be left holding the can. And it won't be them senior officers, oh no! Shit rolls downhill, and there's nobody further down than a parking monitor. Oh shit!

  Oh no! Here they come! That one's Reiner, and there's fatso. Just hold on, Murphy me boy, let 'em pass. That's it. There they go. Now, three yards behind, let's not look too conspicuous. That MinCorp guard gave me a funny look, but I suppose that's the advantage of being a cop. They won't interfere. There they are, on the street. They're turning right. Towards the brown car, five cars down. I can close up a little. Watch those windows. Closer, closer!