by Smith, Glenn
He’d been waiting for nearly an hour and a half when Special Agent Krieger finally came in. After asking the MP if he wouldn’t mind taking up his post outside the room, which he did immediately, the young investigator set a handcomp down on the table in front of the admiral and took a seat in the chair to his right.
“I apologize for taking so long to get back to you, Admiral,” he said politely. “I was in the middle of something pretty important when the special agent in charge assigned me to go with Chairman MacLeod and bring you in. I had to finish it up.”
“That’s quite all right, Mister Krieger,” Hansen replied. Then, with obvious sarcasm, he added, “It’s not like I have anything more important to do during wartime.”
Krieger looked him in the eye for a moment, then said, “Yeah. Well, I don’t like this any more than you do, Admiral.”
“I seriously doubt that, Mister Krieger.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. So, now that we both know where we stand, let’s get started, shall we?”
Despite his unfortunate circumstances, Hansen grinned as he gazed at the young man in front of him. If he was the old police drama’s newly captured suspect, then Special Agent Krieger was indeed its hero detective. He fit the part to a tee. He looked unusually young for a man in his position, was probably single, and was quite obviously physically fit. And he was exceptionally handsome—Hollywood handsome, to invoke the old phrase—with smooth, clear skin that looked like it hadn’t grown a single whisker, a healthy tan, perfectly chiseled features, well groomed short dark brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a glistening white smile that could have melted even the most frigid woman’s heart. Heather would probably fall instantly in love with the guy if she ever got the opportunity to meet him.
And given her behavior over the last couple of years, the chances of that happening were not entirely small.
“What’s so amusing?” Krieger asked, seeing the admiral’s grin.
“Nothing,” Hansen told him. “It’s not important.”
“All right,” the investigator reluctantly accepted. “Then let’s get started.”
“Why not.”
Krieger pointed out the small camera mounted near the ceiling in the center of the room’s back wall and said, “This interview is being recorded in its entirety. Upon completion of this interview, the recording will be entered into the official record of this investigation.
“Vice-Admiral Icarus Hansen, Commanding Officer, Solfleet Intelligence Agency, you have been placed under lawful arrest and are preliminarily charged with the commission of a capital crime against humanity, that being the willful violation of the Brix-Cyberclone Cessation Act of twenty-one sixty-two. You are also charged with grand theft of government property and unlawful use of government equipment and/or facilities in furtherance of criminal activities. In addition, you are suspected of the unlawful alteration or falsification of official Solfleet records, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Whoa! Wait a second!” Hansen exclaimed. “Murder? What murder? What are you talking about?”
“Just a minute, Admiral, please,” Krieger said as he raised an open hand between them. “Let me get the necessary formalities out of the way first. Then I’ll fill you in on all the details and we can talk as much as you want to.”
Hansen fell silent, as requested, genuinely impressed with the young investigator’s polite and professional, yet somehow still warm and friendly manner. He’d worked with a lot of the older and more experienced, and consequently more cynical criminal investigators in the past, and in his experience such qualities were rarely seen among them. No doubt that was at least partly the reason why Krieger had been chosen for this case. Hansen might have been a criminal suspect, but he was still a flag-grade officer, still an admiral, and as such was owed a certain measure of consideration and respect.
Krieger dropped his suspect-silencing hand to his lap and asked, “Admiral Hansen, do you understand the nature of the charges and allegations against you?”
“Of course I understand,” the admiral answered curtly. “Now can we just get this over with, please? I have a lot of work to do.”
“Certainly, Admiral. But as you know, before I ask you any questions I must advise you of your legal rights and make sure you understand them. They appear...”
“I understand them perfectly, Mister Krieger,” Hansen interrupted.
“I still have to go through them, sir,” Krieger patiently explained. “As I was saying, they appear in text form on the handcomp in front of you if you’d like to follow along.”
Hansen glanced down at the device without actually reading the words as Krieger pulled a small card from his shirt pocket and began to read.
“You have the absolute right to remain silent. You do not have to answer my questions or say anything. If you choose to waive that right, anything you say can and will be used as evidence in an administrative hearing, a criminal court-martial, or both. You have the right to consult with an attorney before questioning and to have an attorney present with you during questioning. This can be a military attorney assigned to you at no expense to you, or a civilian attorney that you arrange for at your own expense, or both. If you choose to waive any or all of your legal rights, then later wish to invoke those rights, you may do so at any time.
“Vice-Admiral Hansen, do you understand your legal rights as I have explained them?”
“Yes, damn it, I understand,” he answered impatiently. “I understand the nature of the charges and allegations against me and I understand my legal rights. What I don’t understand is what this murder conspiracy charge is all about!”
“Regarding your right to remain silent, Admiral, do you choose to waive or invoke that right at this time?”
“I choose to be told what the hell this murder conspiracy charge is about, Agent Krieger, before I say a damn thing!”
Krieger sat back in his chair with a sigh, seemingly discouraged, and slipped his rights advisement card back into his shirt pocket. “You know, Admiral, I’m trying to be polite and respectful here. With all your years of service you’ve earned that, probably many times over. But you’re not making it very easy for me, sir. You of all people should know that we have to go through this rights advisement first, word for word, by the book, before we can discuss anything. After all, it’s not like you’ve never been through it before.”
Hansen glared at the investigator, his jaw clenched so tightly that he almost ground his teeth to dust. He knew all too well exactly what Krieger was referring to. There wasn’t a Solfleet officer or a criminal law student alive who hadn’t, at some point in their professional education, thoroughly studied the massive investigation and courtroom drama that had followed the tragic deaths of the Earth Federation’s vice-president and his family all those years ago. The numerous interrogations, the private and public hearings, and the very public humiliation that Hansen had been forced to endure, particularly over the deaths of the Security Police troops under his command. It had been one of the most heavily covered news stories of its time and would have cost Hansen his career, not to mention his freedom, had it not been for his willingness to go along with the government’s dire need to keep some of the details of the incident quiet.
It was still a painful memory and Krieger was a lowlife bastard for bringing it up. But he was also right, about both the legal requirements of the rights advisement and the fact that he was well aware of those requirements. And, as the investigator had pointed out, he really was trying his best to be polite and respectful, with that one unfortunate exception. So, reluctantly, Hansen acquiesced. “Very well, Mister Krieger. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, sir,” the investigator replied as he sat up straight and took the card out of his pocket again. “Now, Admiral, regarding your right to remain silent, do you choose to waive or invoke that right at this time?”
“I choose to waive that right,” Hansen declared. “For now. But say the wrong thing...”
“Noted.”
Under normal circumstances, of course, Hansen would never have waived it, even if he were completely innocent of the charges. Lawyers were far too skilled at twisting a person’s words and attributing new meanings to them. But circumstances were anything but normal and he really wanted to know exactly what Chairman MacLeod had discovered that had enabled him to persuade the president to issue the arrest orders. More than that, he needed to know. He needed to know if the Timeshift mission, and therefore the existence of the Portal, had been compromised in any way.
“Regarding your right to consult with an attorney before questioning, do you choose to waive or invoke that right at this time?”
“I choose to waive that right,” Hansen repeated. “For now.” Again, had the circumstances been different...
“And regarding your right to have an attorney present with you during questioning, do you choose to waive or invoke that right at this time?”
“At this time I choose to waive that right.”
“All right then,” Krieger said, flashing a brief but friendly smile as he relaxed his posture, just a little, and poked the rights advisement card back into his shirt pocket again. “Now that we’ve gotten that little formality out of the way, Admiral, I’d like to start by asking you a few questions about a group of cyberclones you allegedly had something to do with.”
“Ask away, Mister Krieger.”
As if it weren’t really that big a deal, the agent started by saying, “As I understand it, the issue has something to do with you overseeing the development of several series of cyberclones before you obtained the properly authorized signatures on the correct legal documentation, or something to that effect. What can you tell me about that?”
He was pretty good, this self-confident young criminal investigator. The C.I.D. Academy instructors truly would have been proud. But Hansen, being an equally well-trained interrogator himself, easily saw through the much younger and much more inexperienced man’s act.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Mister Krieger,” he impatiently suggested. “We’re both very well aware of how serious the allegations against me are.” It wasn’t that he was necessarily offended by the young investigator’s obvious attempt to get him talking by downplaying the seriousness of the charges. He was just a little irritated by it. It was a simple, basic textbook method commonly used on the more naïve and inexperienced suspects. Krieger should have known it wouldn’t work on him.
“You’re right, Admiral,” Krieger admitted. “I should have known better and I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”
“Don’t patronize me either, junior. And pardon my lack of patience, but the cyberclones can wait,” Hansen said authoritatively. “I want to know about this alleged murder conspiracy, and I want to know right now.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral, but that’s not how we do things here,” Krieger responded. “And my name’s not ‘junior.’” He took a second to collect his thoughts, and then explained, “Look, I’m not trying to play hard ass with you, sir. I understand you have a lot of questions and I promise I’ll do my best to answer all of them. But there are certain procedures I have follow in situations like this. Certain ways I have to approach things. When I’m brought in on an investigation and asked to conduct the interviews, I usually have ample time to review everything first so I can determine the most logical place to begin. But in this particular case...”
“In this particular case, Mister Krieger, you’ll begin by explaining this murder conspiracy charge to me,” Hansen insisted. If Krieger was as interested as he appeared to be in hearing what he had to say, the last thing the young investigator would want him to do would be to invoke his rights. That gave him a certain measure of control over the interview and he knew it, so he added, “Either that or I will immediately invoke my legal rights to remain silent and secure a civilian attorney of my own choosing. And I’m quite sure the attorney I intend to choose won’t be available for at least several weeks.”
Krieger smiled the smile of a man who knew he’d just been outwitted by a worthy and superior opponent, and said simply, “Touché, Admiral.” No doubt he’d decided it was better to give a little ground where it couldn’t do any real harm. That was, after all, exactly what Hansen would have done had their rolls been reversed. Cooperation usually came easier that way.
“Don’t be discouraged, Mister Krieger,” Hansen said, sounding much more pretentious than he’d intended. “You’re good at what you do. I’m just better.”
“I appreciate the input, Admiral,” the investigator said, though his words lacked sincerity. “Now, do you want to discuss these charges, or would you rather just continue the psychological boxing match we’ve gotten ourselves into?”
Hansen grinned. “No, I think I made my point, Mister Krieger. By all means, let’s talk about the charges, starting with the murder conspiracy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
His thanks sounded even less sincere than his appreciation, bordering on sarcasm. He might have been good, but he still had his youth and inexperience to overcome. His confidence had been shaken. He was rattled. Intimidated. He’d be on his guard from here on out, looking for Hansen to try to trip him up instead of concentrating on doing the same to him. Consequently, he’d be more cautious than aggressive, which was exactly what Hansen wanted.
“All of the evidence that led to you and Commander Royer being arrested was provided to E-S-C Chairman Brian MacLeod by a Cirran university professor named Loson Min’para,” he began. “Fortunately, the professor was smart enough to keep a computer record of everything he uncovered before he was murdered.”
“What?” Hansen asked, hardly able to believe his ears and wanting to even less, even though he’d already suspected the worst where Min’para was concerned for some time.
“I said, fortunately...”
“I heard what you said, Mister Krieger. Professor Loson Min’para was murdered? Are you sure about that?”
Krieger stared at him for a moment, then said, “Yes, Professor Min’para was murdered. He was gunned down outside the New York City Federation Building two weeks ago today.”
Two weeks ago today. The very day Royer’s people had followed him to Earth. That fact slammed home another ugly truth that Hansen already suspected but hadn’t wanted to believe. The police detectives who’d lost their lives, whose identities had never been released to the public, weren’t police officers at all. They were his own agents. Hansen sighed. “So it was him,” he said. Damn her.
“That’s right, Admiral,” Krieger confirmed.
Hansen bowed his head and sighed. He hadn’t wanted to believe that Liz had so blatantly defied him...again...and then hidden what she’d done from him...again. He still didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny it any longer.
“I guess I don’t need to tell you, Admiral, that the other five casualties weren’t New York City police officers,” Kreiger said. “They were co-conspirators from your own agency.”
Hansen looked up at Krieger and said, “The agents under my command are professionals, Mister Krieger. They’re Solfleet officers of the highest caliber. Those five gave their lives in the performance of their duties. They did what they did in compliance with what they believed to be lawful orders.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Damn right I am. None of them would have murdered anyone in cold blood, and if you even think about dragging their names through the mud...”
“Not even under the direct orders of their superior officer, Admiral?”
“I’m their superior officer, Mister Krieger,” Hansen pointed out, “and I assure you, I would never give such an order.”
“You’re not their only superior officer,” Krieger pointed out.
Hansen froze. No reaction in his weary body, no expression on his pale face. There it was. There was Krieger’s end, as obvious as it could possibly have been. He was targeting Liz. And why not? She was obviously responsible.
Krieger picked up the handcomp and tapped a few buttons, then offered it to him. “These are the names of your agents who were involved in the incident, sir,” he quietly told him.
Hansen glanced at the list just long enough to read the five names, then dropped his gaze to the tabletop. He knew every one of them. All five were agents who had worked closely with Royer several times before. Agents who had always been unquestionably loyal to her. They were also husbands and fathers, brothers and sons, and one daughter not ten years older than his own.
Their lives had been wasted...thrown away...and for what?
Krieger held the device in place, its screen staring at Hansen like a big bright unblinking accusatory eye.
Anger born out of his despair filled the admiral’s soul. He looked up at Krieger. “Get that damn thing out of my face,” he demanded.
“I understand your anger, Admiral,” Krieger said as he set the handcomp aside. “Truth is, I never thought you were involved in these deaths in the first place. Min’para believed you were in this up to your neck, but the evidence seems to indicate otherwise. So tell me something. Is it just the loss of all those lives that angers you, or are you angry at someone in particular?”
He and Liz had served together for years. But did he owe her anything after she’d twice defied him so blatantly? Did he owe it to her to protect her? “What are you getting at, Mister Krieger?” he asked. As if he didn’t know.
“I think you know exactly what I’m getting at, Admiral.” He paused a moment for effect, and to give Hansen a chance to play dumb, which he didn’t. Then he asked, “So who is it? Who are you angry at? Who betrayed you and ordered Min’para’s murder?” He paused again and leaned slightly forward in his chair. “Who’s responsible for the needless deaths of those agents whose families you’re going to have to write to?”
Did he owe it to Liz to protect her? “If I’m not mistaken, Mister Krieger, you already have a suspect in mind.”
