by D. M. Pruden
“You mean to the rabble of illegal refugees that he harbours.”
“I didn’t ask to see anyone’s passport.”
He studies me for a moment. “The taxation and revenue people will want to discuss your unregistered income source.”
“What income? I offer my services gratis.”
“I find that difficult to swallow.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter what you believe, but you’ll appear really stupid if you send them to investigate someone who saves the government the embarrassment of admitting these people exist and are not cared for.”
“You are still consorting with a criminal.”
“Who, Oskar?” I laugh. “If you know how to find him, then you’d have arrested him if he is really is one. Are you going to charge me with something, Willis, or you do you just enjoy my company and are too shy to ask me on a date?”
“Very amusing, Doctor. You lied to me, and that is an offence.”
“How did I lie?”
“You claimed not to know the woman when I first showed you her picture.”
“I think your memory is faulty, Inspector. When we last met, you didn’t ask me anything. I told you nothing. I simply asked you what she’d done.”
His back straightens, and he gets that expression of someone who lets off a wet fart and soils himself. I can see him working the problem, trying to recall exactly what was said. If he’d studied my file and knows about my time at the medical academy, he surely should realize I might possess an eidetic memory. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
Finally, realizing how foolish I’ve made him appear, he scowls. I see murderous anger flash in his eyes before the deliberately controlled calm returns. I am grateful that we are in a monitored interrogation room, otherwise I am sure my life would be in danger.
“Very well, Doctor; aside from this picture, have you ever seen this woman?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“She stowed away on my ship two days ago.” There is no point in lying; he is obviously trained to watch for my tells. The next part of my story is going to be a challenge, though.
“And?”
“Was that a question, Inspector?”
“What happened when she was discovered?”
“I provided her with medical aid, and before I make you ask, she suffered from malnutrition and vitamin deficiency.”
“Where is she at the moment?”
“I presume she is still aboard Requiem. Under the protection of Canto Corporation as a member of her crew.”
Willis stares at me, blinking a few times. He is sufficiently buffaloed that I hope my lie goes unnoticed.
He sneers. “I hardly believe a respectable corporate citizen would knowingly employ a drug-addicted prostitute.”
“She is a victim of human trafficking, sold as a sex slave by the Jovian Collective, who injected her with cannibalizing nanites. The drug you claim she is addicted to is the only treatment available to keep her alive. Inspector, you should be hunting down the animals that did this to her.”
For a fraction of a second, he gets the look of fear I’ve seen on the kids the sex gangs preyed upon on the streets where I grew up. Just as quickly, he masters it as he did with his anger.
“Well, I’m gratified that she has been located. If you will bring her to me, I can see that she finds her way home to her father.”
“I’ll ask her if that’s what she wants.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Inspector, I’m surprised by your lack of familiarity with interplanetary and corporate law. In seeking sanctuary aboard Requiem, she comes under the protection of Canto Corporation. You have no authority to compel her, or any of the ship’s crew, to do anything as long as they are aboard the ship.”
“You are on Lunar soil, Doctor. You will turn her over immediately.”
“Section VI, paragraph 3 of the Interplanetary Trade Treaty clearly states any legally registered corporate vehicle shall fall under the sole jurisdiction of the registering corporation. To make it plain, Inspector, you can’t touch her while she’s aboard Requiem, unless you want to take on Canto Corporation. I understand they defend their rights rather vigorously.”
I am glad that Chambers and I spent those hours scouring the legal implications of Chloe’s presence aboard our ship.
Standing, I say, “If we’re finished here, Inspector, I need to attend my patient.”
He is pissed with me. I am probably being foolish, but at this point I enjoy needling the arrogant prick. I realize my mistake when Willis’s demeanour turns cordial. The tension between us seems to evaporate, replaced by a cold chill.
“Very well, Doctor, you may go, but it is important that I find the perpetrators of the terrible crime against this unfortunate young woman. Did she say anything about her captors that can assist me in rooting them out?”
“No, she hasn’t shared any details with me.”
“Perhaps I might be permitted to interview her...aboard your ship, of course, and only by invitation.”
“That’s very gracious of you, Inspector; I’ll ask Chloe about it, but she’s understandably traumatized by her experience.”
“I’m sure the same ordeal would affect the strongest of us. If she recalls anything at all, please pass the information on to me?”
Every instinct in my head screams at me to be careful. Something is going on that I don’t understand. This man is dangerous in ways I probably can’t imagine.
“Of course, Inspector, but I expect she will be eager to make her way home and put this all behind her.”
“I shall inform Mister Cabot that Chloe is in your care.”
“Who?”
“Anthony Cabot: Chloe’s father.”
It takes me a moment to recall where I’ve heard that name before, and when I do, any fear I have of Willis pales immediately. Cabot is the almost legendary untouchable kingpin behind the Jovian Collective’s activity in the inner system.
What kind of shit-show have I stepped into?
Chapter Fifteen
It requires every ounce of his hard-learned self-discipline to permit the Destin woman to leave his custody. The urge to do her harm is almost more than he can control.
She is dangerous, of that he has no doubt. Intelligent in the extreme, she gave him the impression there was little she would not do to get her own way. What he can’t understand is her reason for sheltering Chloe Cabot.
Willis is grateful for the lateness of the hour. Everyone has left, and no one can see him in his agitated state. By the time he reaches his office, his nerves are raw. It takes the better part of an hour of meditation to regain a semblance of balance.
He has never encountered such an infuriating person in his entire career. She is arrogant, irreverent, and disrespectful. Her act of benevolent, selfless care for the less fortunate is bullshit. She is a medical professional; nobody enters that profession simply to provide valuable services for free. He is sure she is involved in criminal activity with Vostok.
Obviously, his arrangement with the gangster is now ended. He has every intention of ordering a raid on Vostok’s compound at the earliest opportunity. First, however, there are loose ends to tie off.
Cabot is ruthless in exacting his vengeance. He expects Carson to find and punish everyone on Luna involved in his daughter’s abduction. If she returns home, delivered by Destin and her miscreant crewmates, dangerous questions will be raised.
Memory recall therapy for the girl could prove damning. It wouldn’t take much...a remembered voice...a mannerism...a careless comment by Bentley or someone she’d overheard. Anything might be enough to implicate him in her abduction.
Why was she travelling under a false identity? Why did her captors not properly vet her or simply let her die in the icy cold of space like the rest of the passengers on that star liner? The trail would be cold, and nothing would exist to endanger him.
He realizes he is hyperventilating. Focusing on con
trolling his breathing, he pours himself a drink of water. As he raises his shaking hand to his mouth, he spills some on his shirt.
He hurls the glass across the room. Turning, he scatters the contents of his desk and overturns it.
Within minutes, his office is in shambles. Out of breath, he sits on the carpet and leans against the wall beneath a shattered picture. As quickly as the rage had risen, it is replaced by anguish.
Tears fill his eyes, and he weeps in gasping sobs as years of suppressed emotion explode forth. For ten minutes he lies curled on the floor, his mind a fog of grief, weeping uncontrollably until he is utterly spent.
When he has no more tears, he sits up and surveys the result of his catharsis. In releasing the jinn he’d confined under layers of fruitless discipline, he experienced a clarity of thought he’s not had in years. There is only one path to guarantee his survival: he must abandon his fear of losing control and become as ruthless as he once was.
Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he stands and unsteadily walks to the overturned desk. Searching through the scattered detritus, he locates his undamaged data pad.
He has a network of resources, carefully gathered and vetted over a career. People who owe him and who will not hesitate to do anything to be rid of their obligation to him. Today is the day he will profit from those investments.
It is the only way he can see himself surviving.
Chapter Sixteen
I storm through the hatchway, almost bowling Chambers over.
“Whoa, Destin. What’s the rush?”
“Where is she?”
“I think she’s in the galley.”
I push past him and stride down the corridor, leaving him behind, sputtering. He quickly catches up with me. “What’s going on, Mel?”
Ignoring him, I turn into the galley and walk straight up to a startled Chloe.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, poking my finger at her chest.
“I...I told you.”
“You gave us a name, but you didn’t tell us who you are. Spill it, you bitch.”
“Mel!” shouts Chambers. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
I jerk a thumb at her as I address him. “She left out some important information about her pedigree.”
Thoroughly confused, he wrinkles his brow and squints at her. “I don’t understand.”
“Tell him,” I command her. “Tell him who your father is.”
Her face reddens, and she glances about, looking for an exit that isn’t available.
“What is she talking about? Who are you?” says Chambers.
“I’m Chloe Cabot. My father is Anthony Cabot.”
He stares at her for several seconds before his eyes widen and his jaw drops.
“Not the Anthony Cabot?”
I nod. “The same.”
Chambers turns back to her. “Is this true?”
Tears well in her eyes, and her head bobs up and down.
“Oh, stop the waterworks,” I say. “It won’t work on me.”
“Holy shit,” says Chambers, still seeming dumbfounded. “Holy shit.”
“Give me one reason, Chloe,” I say, “why I shouldn’t haul you off this ship and turn you over to the people searching for you?”
“What are you saying, Mel?” says Chambers. “Didn’t you do the deal with Vostok?”
“Yes, but there’s an inspector from the Morality Police hunting for her. He harassed me at my place yesterday and had me hauled in for questioning about her. That’s when I found out who her daddy is.”
“That makes no sense. Why is he looking for her?”
I rolled my eyes. “What kind of criminal are you? Obviously, the guy is involved with the Jovian Collective. Why else would an inspector be making such an effort to locate the missing daughter of one of its leaders?”
Chambers face darkens as he faces Chloe. “I’m starting to see this your way, Mel. We should kick her out and be done with her.”
“No, please, I can explain.”
“Why don’t you start from the top and tell us the truth this time?” I say.
She swallows and glances fearfully at each of us. “Yes, my father is who you think he is. I ran away from him because he wanted to marry me off to one of his business associates; to seal some deal.”
“I take it you disagreed with Daddy’s choice of husband for you?” I say.
Chloe nods. “I hid at my friend’s place. It was safe for a short time, but after my father’s men came looking for me, we decided I had to leave Terra. We faked our identification and booked passage on a cruise liner to Callisto. After that, we planned to make our way to one of the other Galilean colonies.”
“That is one dedicated friend,” says Chambers.
“She was more well-travelled than me and knew what it would take to hide me.”
“A smuggler?”
“She’s a psychological counsellor. She’s travelled across the system treating people traumatized by the war.”
“I still smell bullshit,” I say.
“It’s the truth.”
“Listen, sister, I know a con job when I hear one.”
“And the bit about pirates kidnapping you?” says Chambers.
“It happened.”
“Can you prove any of this?” he says.
Desperation appears on her face. “They took everything I had.”
“What was the name of the ship?”
Chloe answers quickly. “Callisto’s Star.”
“And what names were you and your friend booked under?”
“I was Andrea Bartoli, and she travelled under the name of Mari Cohand.”
I lift my head and speak into the air. “AI, conduct a search of all available databases. Verify that those two names were passengers aboard the commercial passenger liner, Callisto’s Star.”
“That may take me a moment to access. Would you like to play a game while you wait?”
“What? No! Just do the fucking search.” I turn to Chambers. “Where the hell did you get this system, and why did you keep it?”
“I, ah, won it in a poker game,” he says sheepishly.
“Search complete. The only reference to Callisto’s Star in the public record is a news bulletin about its loss with all hands aboard six months ago in the epsilon sector of the asteroid belt. Would you like me to recite the article?”
“Fuck no!” I turn to Chloe, an eyebrow raised. “That is convenient. You probably read about the accident and thought we wouldn’t think to follow up on your sad little story.” I am ashamed that she almost succeeded.
“No! It really happened,” says Chloe, tears welling.
“Wait a minute, Mel,” says Chambers. He addresses the AI. “Maggie, sweetie, please access all private databases and run the same search.”
“Certainly, Roy, please cite the authorization code to initiate.”
“Um...” His face grows red. “Um, password is, chambersisastud.”
“I’m sorry, Roy, I didn’t understand you. Please repeat, slowly and distinctly.”
Chambers coughs, avoiding my gaze as he composes himself. “Chambers-is-a-stud.”
“Password accepted. Commencing search.”
I can’t wipe the smile from my face. “Seriously?”
“Shut up, Destin.”
“How does this system have access to those encrypted databases?”
He smiles. “And that would be the reason why Maggie is so useful.”
My brow furrows. “Why Maggie? The name of an old girlfriend who thought you were a stud?”
He is saved from answering by the AI.
“Andrea Bartoli and Mari Cohand were registered passengers aboard the IPC Callisto’s Star when it vanished on October 25 of 2258, Terran Standard Date.”
“Are there any visual records of these passengers? IDs? Passports?” I ask.
“Those records are sealed, and access requires authorization from the security director of the corporation that owns the ship.”
“Maggie,” I say, “are there any accessible visuals of passengers boarding Callisto’s Star on her departure date?”
“Yes.”
“Run facial recognition analysis on all persons entering. Look for a match to Chloe Cabot.”
“Analysis completed. One positive match.”
“Display.”
We all turn to watch a hologram of a young woman form in the air. As the image coalesces, it becomes obvious that the person in question is, indeed, Chloe.
I turn to her. “Sorry I doubted you.”
She wipes the tears from her cheeks and smiles weakly. “I probably wouldn’t believe my story either.”
“So, this just begs the question,” says Chambers, “why is an inspector for the Lunar Morality police involving himself in a missing person case to help Anthony Cabot?”
“Maybe he’s in Cabot’s pocket,” I say.
“What are you going to do with me?” asks Chloe.
“What will happen if you’re returned home? Will your father force you into the marriage?”
She nods. “And he’ll probably ensure I can never run again.”
I frown, offended on her behalf that her own father would still sell her into what was little more than another form of sexual slavery. “What sort of precautions?”
She sighs. “The kind that are already eating me up inside.”
“Well, fuck that noise,” I say. “There is no way I’m going to let someone undo my hard work getting those things out of your system.”
It takes her a moment to understand my meaning. “You mean I can stay? You’ll help me?”
“If it’s all right with the captain, here.”
“You can stay,” he says.
She embraces us each in turn. After her display of gratitude, I send her ahead of me to the medical bay.
“What are we going to do?” I ask Chambers after she is gone.
“While you start shutting down her nanites, I’ll make arrangements for an earlier departure. The sooner we get her away from your friend in the Morality Police, the safer I think she’ll be.”
