by Simon Haynes
Instead, he took out a wallet and handed her a card.
"Tyron Smith," she said, reading the name aloud. The photo was unmistakably his, and the ID card's security hologram went through the correct sequence of images when she touched it, so it wasn't a fake. "Well, Mr Smith. Tell me about your niece. When did you last see her?"
"Eight year ago, most like."
Harriet's eyebrows rose. "You only just realised she's missing?"
"Thought she were being looked after." He shrugged. "Was wrong."
"How old is she now?"
"Fifteen, maybe sixteen."
"Name?"
"Rebecca. Rebecca Smith."
Harriet turned to her terminal, only to realise Tyron Smith was now standing directly behind her. It gave her an unpleasant, creepy feeling, and she pushed her chair sideways and tried to keep both the screen and Smith in view. She managed it, just, and after typing rapidly she shook her head. "Sorry, there's no record of a Rebecca Smith on Dismolle. Nobody under seventy, at any rate."
"You sure?"
"I'm certain." She turned to face him. "Someone misled you. I'm sorry."
He pressed his lips together, and looked like he was going to argue. Then he opened his wallet and passed her a photo. "This is the girl. If you see her around, I want to know."
Harriet stared at the photo, and she got such a surprise she almost dropped it. It showed a child of seven or eight, with long curly hair and a mulish, stubborn expression. It wasn't the hair or the expression which made Harriet's heart thump, though. The child in the photo was unmistakably Alice.
Chapter 2
Alice stepped out of the cab and straightened her uniform. She was wearing the grey jacket of a senior officer, which was the only one she'd managed to find in her size. The dark trousers were a bit long, but she'd rolled up the cuffs and they looked fine over the chunky black combat boots she was wearing. She would have liked a gun, but she hadn't found the combination for the case yet. Anyway, the burglary had taken place in a five star hotel, and it was unlikely she'd have to shoot anyone.
Alice put on her best Peace Force officer expression as she strode up the steps. She felt nervous as she entered the lobby, certain someone would notice a fifteen-year old inside the uniform, but the place was busy and nobody spared her a second glance.
She went to reception, where the girl behind the counter was busy making a booking. Once she was done, Alice showed her badge, keeping her thumb over the word 'Trainee'. "Detective Alice Walsh. I'm here about the burglary."
"Oh yes, Mr Thickett said he'd called the Peace Force. I'm not sure it was strictly necessary, but he's a permanent resident and we like to keep them happy."
"What do you mean, not necessary? Was his wallet stolen or not?"
"You'd better ask him about that." The woman pointed. "He's over there. The gentleman in the blue shirt."
Alice nodded her thanks, and strode over to the man in question. Mr Thickett looked about eighty, with tufts of white hair, piercing blue eyes and veiny hands which were grasping an ancient walking stick. "Mr Thickett?"
"By gum, lass. They start you young in the Peace Force, what?"
Alice nodded. "Would you show me the crime scene, please? I'd like to get started."
"Are you sure? Shouldn't we wait for someone more senior? I mean, my great-granddaughter must be older than you."
Alice drew herself up. "There are lots of people older than me, Mr Thickett, but they're not officers in the Force, are they? Now, the crime scene, if you please."
Thickett gave a short, barking laugh. Then he gestured at a nearby sofa. "I was having breakfast there. Turned round to get a cuppa, and my wallet was taken while I wasn't looking." He lowered his voice. "I think it was the waiter."
Alice glanced around the lobby. She could see three serving staff moving between the guests, but they were all robots. She supposed you could program a robot to lift wallets, but this seemed more like a casual theft. She was still thinking when Thickett stood up.
"Need to see a man about a dog. I'll be right back."
He walked off slowly, leaning on the cane, and Alice wondered what to do next. Review security footage, perhaps, or line up all the staff and question them. Maybe gather all the guests and pace up and down, accusing them in turn until one of them confessed.
Or she could check the sofa, in case the silly old duffer had lost his wallet down the back.
She sat down and felt along the cushion. Her fingers closed on the wallet immediately, and she shook her head with frustration. Some case this turned out to be!
When Thickett came back, she held out the wallet silently. Thickett stared at it, blinking in astonishment. "That was fast."
"Peace Force training. We're the best."
"I'm sorry, my dear. I underestimated you."
Alice touched a finger to her cap, the way she'd seen Harriet salute.
"Aren't you going to arrest the thief?"
"We'll be keeping tabs on them," said Alice. "They won't strike again, I'm sure."
"Capital. You'll go far, young lady."
Alice saluted again, then turned and left. Outside, she signalled a cab and got in.
"Please state your destination," said a metallic voice.
"Take me to the Dismolle Peace Force," replied Alice, and she sank back into her seat. As the cab set off, she felt in her breast pocket, which held a couple of hundred-credit tiles she'd slipped out of Thickett's wallet. Well, it wasn't like the old guy would notice, she reasoned, and even if he did, he'd assume the thief took the money.
He deserved it, anyway, for wasting her time.
— ♦ —
"You say you're her uncle?" Harriet held the photo, trying to keep her expression neutral. Alice once told her about the uncle who'd brought her up, but he was definitely dead. Alice had also given Harriet a few sketchy details about her unhappy childhood, about the merry-go-round of foster families she'd endured before finally running away to space. If she had any other family, she'd never mentioned them.
So, was this Smith really another uncle, or was he after Alice for another reason? Something about him was off, Harriet knew it, so she decided to pass his details on to Alice and let her decide what to do about him.
Then another thought hit her. Alice had gone off on some case or other, but she might walk in any second. Sure, she was much older than the girl in the photo, but Harriet had recognised her from the picture, so there was a good chance this Smith guy would as well. She had to get rid of him, and quickly! "Sorry, I don't know her," said Harriet, passing the photo back.
"You're sure?" Smith looked at her closely, perhaps noticing some change in her manner.
"She reminds me of someone I went to school with," lied Harriet. "Memories. You know."
The man studied her a few moments longer, then shrugged. "Keep the photo. I got copies."
"And … you say she's your niece?"
"Yeah. Raised her from a kid after her folks bought it."
Now Harriet knew for certain he was lying. "Well, she's not on Dismolle. Sorry I couldn't help."
"What about the report?"
"What report?"
"Missing persons. Got to fill in the form in case she shows up. You will tell me if she shows up, right?"
Harriet felt rising panic. She wanted him out of there, not sitting next to her desk while she laboriously filled out paperwork. "I have the photo and the name. I can take care of it."
Smith shook his head. "Do it proper. And I want a copy."
"Okay." Harriet thought fast. "Let me get the right forms," she said, getting up. "I don't have them up here."
Smith shrugged, and leaned on the edge of her desk. "No rush."
Harriet walked towards the elevator, suppressing the urge to run. She pressed the button, and waited impatiently while the old lift rose from the basement. Finally it arrived, and she stepped inside and tapped her foot as the lift carried her down.
"Come on, come on, come on!" she muttered
.
The doors opened and she ran out, turned left and hurried past the firing range. Bernie's charger was nearby, a big yellow cage with a thick power cable. The robot was inside, hooked up, but Harriet didn't need to speak face to face. Instead, she lifted a handset from the wall. "Bernie?"
"Yes, Trainee Harriet?"
It seemed nuts using the comms system when the robot was barely ten metres away, but she couldn't use the ones upstairs in case she was overheard, and it would waste precious seconds if Bernie had to detach herself from the charge station. "Call Alice. Tell her to go to the nearest shopping mall immediately."
"Can you not tell her yourself?"
"Bernie, this is an emergency. Do you understand? No arguments, just … do it."
"Need I remind you that I'm your superior officer?"
"I have facts you're not aware of, Bernie. Please trust me. Tell her to be around other people."
"Very well. Transmitting now."
Harriet felt a rush of relief. As long as Alice had a commset on her, everything would be okay. Then she remembered Smith. "Bernie, do we have a missing persons form?"
"You cannot report Alice missing yet, Trainee Harriet. I saw her myself barely an hour ago."
"It's not for Alice. Well, it is, but it's—" Harriet blew out her cheeks in frustration. "This is a trust me moment, Bernie. Just tell me where the forms are, okay?"
"There are no forms, Trainee. Everything must be entered on the terminal."
"Wow. Aren't we all modern?"
"Sarcasm does not befit an officer in the Peace Force."
"No, but it feels good when I'm under pressure. Okay, I have to deal with something. Harriet out."
"But you have yet to—"
With a silent apology, Harriet hung up. Then she ran for the lift, moving quickly in case Bernie decided to get out of the cradle and follow her. She did not need the robot seeing that photo, or talking to Smith for that matter.
The doors opened, and Harriet strode towards her desk. "Sorry, I can't find the forms," she said, then stopped. Smith had vanished. She glanced around, frowning. Was he searching the place? If so, good luck. There were three floors and a bunch of rooms, and Alice wasn't in any of them.
Then she noticed the call log. The top sheet, the one she'd skimmed with the pencil, was missing. And beside the desk, on the floor, she could see her bag lying on its side. She knew it had been upright when she headed for the basement, so what had Smith been up to?
She checked the bag, but she couldn't see anything missing. Feeling uncertain, she glanced around the office. She was relieved Smith had left, but she couldn't help feeling it was the start of something unpleasant, not the end.
Thud!
Harriet spun round, half-expecting to see Smith again. The earlier noise must have been the automated doors at the front of the office opening and closing, and … was he back again?
Thud! Thud!
Harriet relaxed. That was Bernie, on her way up. Sure enough, the elevator arrived moments later, and the robot stepped out. "I thought you were charging?" asked Harriet.
"Trainee Alice absent without permission, requests for missing persons forms, your urgent orders for Trainee Alice to shelter amongst other people … how could I charge in peace when so much is happening?" demanded the robot.
"It's all under control, Bernie."
"Traditionally, that indicates everything is far from under control." Bernie approached Harriet's desk. "Please explain why you wanted a missing persons form."
"I—I thought it might be good for Alice to practice filling out paperwork."
"That girl can barely fill out her own name," said Bernie.
Not her real one at least, thought Harriet. "Look, she'll be hungry and she never has any money. Let me go meet her at the mall, and I'll explain everything in the morning."
Bernie hesitated, then nodded.
"Good. I'll take the cruiser."
"The Peace Force cruiser is not to be used for—"
"Bye, Bernie. See you in the morning!" Harriet called over her shoulder. She headed to the garage, where the cruiser was waiting. As soon as she got in, Steve fired up the engines.
"Where to, Harriet?"
"Shopping mall."
"Which one?"
"Bernie knows. Whichever one she sent Alice to."
"Very well, I have the address." Steve paused. "Is this a case at last?"
Harriet looked grim. "You know what, it just might be."
And with that, they roared out of the garage.
Chapter 3
Alice and Harriet were sitting in a coffee shop at the mall, huddled over a couple of hot drinks. Alice had a pile of iced cakes in front of her, and she offered the plate to Harriet.
"Not now," said Harriet, with a frown. She had no idea where Alice had found the money for fancy cakes, but that could wait, along with the inevitable fallout from Alice's unauthorised mission. No, Harriet had far more important matters to deal with. "Tell me about Tyron Smith."
Alice turned pale. "Where did you hear that name?"
"He just waltzed into the office and showed me a photo of you as a child."
"He's here? On Dismolle?" Alice's voice was barely a whisper.
"Yeah. He says he's your uncle."
"He's evil," said Alice quietly. "A monster."
"I kind of got that vibe."
"You have no idea." Alice looked down at the table. "He shot my uncle," she said, her voice low. "He killed him right in front of me."
Harriet winced.
"He got away with it, too. Claimed it was self-defence, and nobody believed me because I was only eight." Alice looked up, her expression taut. "He might want me dead, Harriet. If someone's investigating my uncle's murder—"
"It's just was well you were running around pretending to be a Peace Force officer then, isn't it? Smith might have bumped into you at the office, if you weren't off solving cases on your own."
"I knew you'd bring that up."
"What were you thinking?" demanded Harriet. "You can't just put on a uniform and—"
"I had to get out of the office, Harriet. You try sitting around all day writing essays for Bernie."
"I don't have to. I finished high school."
"I wish I'd had the chance," muttered Alice.
They both fell silent.
"What did you tell Smith?" asked Alice at last.
"I said I didn't recognise you, and I told him there was no record of you ever having visited Dismolle. He said your real name was—"
"Don't!" said Alice sharply. "I just … I don't want to hear it."
"Okay, okay."
"I … I can still hear my uncles voice in my head, screaming my name. And then … just screaming." Alice frowned. "My uncle didn't die quickly. I think Smith wanted something from him. I don't remember much, but he—"
"Don't torture yourself," said Harriet quietly. "Try not to think about it."
"Like that ever works." Alice looked down at the table. "It could be about money."
"Did your uncle leave you anything?"
"Just debts. And it's not like I own anything." Alice picked up one of the cakes, stared at it, then put it back on the plate. "It has to be money, Harriet. I've had no contact with any of my family since I was eight. All the times I was bounced from one children's home to another, nothing. All the times my latest foster parents handed me back like an unwanted birthday gift, nothing."
"I'm sorry. I know you had it rough, but I had no idea it was that bad."
"Yeah, well. Young offender, broken home … it's all one big cliche, isn't it."
"You never talk about it."
"Of course not! It's ancient history." Alice pulled a face. "Well, it was until that murderer Smith showed up."
Harriet remembered the way her bag had been lying on its side in the office. She didn't know for sure that Smith had searched it, and for all she knew the thing might have fallen over. Best not to mention it, she decided. "You know, he's probably l
eft the planet by now."
"Some chance. He didn't turn up here at random, he followed me. And that means he's gone through my entire history, working out everywhere I've been right up to this moment. He knows I'm here, Harriet. And he … he's not going to give up." Alice looked at her. "That training gun, the one in the armoury…"
"No."
"Harriet, it might save my life."
"I'm not arming a fifteen-year-old, and that's final."
"Who said anything about me? I want you to carry it. That way, if he tries to get to me—"
"Bernie would blow a fuse if I started carrying that gun around. You know that."
"She wouldn't know if you locked the case afterwards. You do know the combination, don't you? Do you have it written down somewhere?"
"Yeah, and I'm not sharing it."
Alice managed a weak grin. "I'll get into that case eventually, just like I got into the armoury."
Harriet didn't doubt it. "Look, I'll think about the gun, but I'm not promising anything. I pulled a car over this afternoon and got chewed out for it, and I don't need—"
"Wow. Bernie told her golden-haired favourite off?"
"It wasn't Bernie, it was some tough old bird from the Residents' Association. And if someone reports me carrying a weapon around on this planet, it won't be Bernie chewing me out. The higher-ups will probably drag me off to headquarters for a proper hearing."
"Where is HQ, anyway? Nobody ever mentions it."
"Bernie deals with them. She says trainees aren't allowed to call them, but I bet they can call us." Harriet frowned. "I can't lose this job, Alice. It's everything I have."
"I know, same here. Look, don't worry about the gun. I'll buy a bat or a club or something from the sports shop."
Harriet eyed the expensive cakes. "Yes, about that. Come into some money, did you?"
"Or something."
Alice's expression was innocent, but that only made Harriet more suspicious. She didn't pursue it, though. "All right, pack that lot up and we'll head home."
Alice shook her head. "First the sports shop, then home. I meant it about the club."
Harriet remembered Smith's hard expression, and silently agreed with her.
