Murder in the Fabric

by Andrew Jennings

more than 20 seconds in public places.” he said to the wall.

  A sequence of graphs appeared. Yes, there was some regularity to it, but not a fixed sequence.

  “We’re going to have to watch him closely and tag it.” Steve said

  “Can we flag every time he stops in a public place?” Alice asked.

  “Maybe.” Steve said

  It’s as if we are trying every solution short of actually following him around in person, Steve thought. That was the problem with the wall, you became a slave to its methods. Everything had to be done with a camera or a drone. He thought about recruiting street kids to grab the boxes, then pictured himself explaining it to Kate.

  He turned to the wall.

  “Time to travel from here to stationary locations.” he asked the wall.

  A graph appeared, showing that if they sat on an alert they could intercept within ten minutes. Alice and Steve nodded.

  // Mia

  Mia and Oscar sat quietly. On the large screen, the surveillance video of the micro-drone was playing a loop. It was buffeted by the wind, shook, corrected and flew with unerring accuracy at it’s final target.

  Michael was at the hospital, but they didn’t like to ask for updates. In any case, they got a direct feed from the fun palace. It was unspoken, but their new close relationship with the police was both a source of gratitude, and a concern.

  Mia turned to Oscar.

  “George is considering the possibility that the backers might be the one’s trailing us. It follows that they might be responsible for this.” referring to the loop playing.

  Oscar liked to think that Mia had the answers. She was older, but really it was another way that he dodged the basic question. The mercenary aspect of it all. They knew nothing about the backers except that they had the resources to lock them both in. In a sense they were both ashamed of that.

  Mia gestured towards the door. Hooded, they hunted for a crowd. A big enough crowd to throw all of those tracking them. Preferably a buffeting crowd, where the algorithms would construct paths, resolve the ambiguities for a while, then eventually give up, lost in confusion.

  When they were confident enough, they headed towards the gardens, up past the arts centre. Only the long range surveillance cameras there. Unless they already had a lock, they would be unable to zoom in and grab a conversation. Still, out of reflex, they glanced upwards. It was clear. Mia turned to Oscar.

  “The bank. I had a look at who benefitted from it. It was owned mostly by US shareholders, and the rescue was a consortium of Chinese banks.”

  “Linked to property developers?”

  “All banks have links to developers. Especially in Australia. That’s how the money wheel turns. Build it, sell it.”

  “It’s a long way from hacking banks to executing the innocent.” Oscar said.

  “You think?”

  It hung there. Neither of them could shake the Alex images.

  “I don’t know. You don’t know. So we find out.”

  “How?”

  “We do what we do.”

  “Biting the hand that feeds.”

  “As opposed to life as a robot?”

  // George

  At the hospital, George became a familiar sight. They were a bit taken aback that he slept on the visitor’s room floor.

  The boy came, and stayed for quite a long time. George couldn’t really look him in the eye. But Michael sought him out in the visitor’s room.

  “Thanks. For everything.” Michael said.

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Bullshit. It had nothing to do with your job. You did it anyway.”

  George looked away. ‘Fat lot of good it did.’ he thought. He recognised the anger as a product of the situation. Let it go.

  “He’s visiting this afternoon.” Michael said.

  “Thanks.”

  Smart kid, he thought. That George would want to know, and would want to make himself scarce. This wasn’t the time and place. There wasn’t going to be a time and place. George had a momentary flash of the famous one. No, there wasn’t going to be a time or a place. They were never going to meet again.

  Alex stirred. It was only the fluttering of an eyelid, but it brought a flurry of activity. Nurses, doctors, the whole army. She wasn’t speaking, but she was smiling. She was going to be ok.

  // Dennis

  He hurried along the walking path at Victoria Harbour. He was relieved. It was always tense at the end of a contract period. No knowing if more work was coming. He had sent in the reports, the annotated harassment. It had certainly worked, there was much movement in Bentleigh. Turnover was remarkable. His employers had only to clean up the last few residents, most likely with the influenza, or something similar. It was on its way.

  Dog walkers going the other way. Not really paying much attention. Early crowds in the cafes. Soon he would be sitting and haggling, this time from a strong position. It felt good.

  Two drones flying in formation, joined together with an elastic cord. It was possible to see the flexing. Each drone had to compensate for the pull of the other to keep the cord tight. Small drones, no larger than a dinner plate. Four rotors, that kept them very stable, even with the pulling sideways. Coming in low, across the water, no more than ten metres in the air. They had to dodge boats in an attempt to get a clear run at the dockside.

  Dennis looked up, asking himself ‘why are two drones tied together?’.

  They glided, then jumped, to lock onto his neck. Over the water, crossing to the pier, with clear space. On closing to three metres, they suddenly accelerated. There was no time for him to react.

  A furious catch. An awful elasticity. Hooking his neck, the drones swung forward, pulling his body weight. Then, the flourish. As the two drones rotated towards each other, one went high, the other low, flying with the cord in tension. Circling around each other, stretching the cord tight. Then leaving it.

  Dennis was left with the cord tight around his neck, lying on the dockside, the life draining out of him.

  // George

  It was like a reflex, the heading for the fun palace. Only a short walk. He looked up, and expected to see a drone, but if it was there then it was high up. They will freak out, he thought. But at least they would not throw him out.

  All eyes swiveled to lock onto him. Watched him as he made his way.

  Alice opened her mouth to say ‘go home’ or ‘what are you doing here?’ but then choked it off. Home was an empty room, where else was he going to go?

  He tried to not look at the Alex video in the top left of the wall. Not going to ask the obvious, the motive. Too clear.

  “Any progress?” he asked no-one in particular.

  “Too good at hiding their tracks. The car guy has disappeared. The face launching the legionnaires likewise. Dead ends.”

  “The micro-drone?”

  “Generic. It’s been shutdown and erased. Logs gone. They were fast.”

  Even as George was stomping the electronics, the drone was making sure that no traces were left.

  “We have to trap them.” he said.

  // Steve

  He pulled back the threads from the attacks. The car jumping the freeway, the legionnaires .

  “The forces of darkness.” Alice said.

  “Yup”.

  “You interested in nailing them, or just lining up with Ctrl X and taking them on?”

  Steve watched the wall juggle and sift the data from all three incidents. He sure was giving it a workout.

  “It’s not just about going at it with whatever you have at hand.”

  “Frenzied attack.” Alice said.

  “You have to look at the big picture. Who funds Ctrl X? Yes, they are a collection of talent. But that doesn’t amount to much.”

  // George

  He decided it was time to pay a visit to Kate.

  George walked straight through the outer office. He didn’t even look up. Kate’s assistant rose from the desk
, walked towards him, to intercept. Kate waved her away from behind the glass.

  He fell into the chair. As if he might never rise again. That it was as much as he could do to keep breathing.

  Kate studied him closely. She could see the beginnings of a tear in his eye. He wiped it away.

  “Will she be ok?” she asked

  “They say so. It only got to deliver a tiny fraction of what it was supposed to...”

  Not knowing how to fill the silence that followed. They could talk about lines that had been crossed. Of absolutely being sure that whoever was responsible would feel the full force. If they had been talking to somebody else, either of them could deliver that speech. But not to each other.

  “You go way back?”

  “In a sense. Only just got back together. Her son...”

  “Is Ctrl X. He looks about five years old to me.”

  George grinned.

  “I just feel responsible. That if she hadn’t been with me.”

  “If you hadn’t rescued her son, you mean.”

  He looked up. She was right. It all went together. To feel responsible in the sense that he was who he was. The same stuff that rescued Michael also attracted the drone.

  “We’re no closer.” he said.

  “Yes we are. Whoever launched that drone did it to cover up the SciTec murders. The more out in the open they play, the quicker we catch them.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes, I think.”

  It was as if George was hearing himself talking. He had trained her well.

  Quietly, he walked towards the door. Turned, and smiled.

  “Thanks.”

  // Mia

  Mia and Oscar left at different times, taking different paths. Only to meet up on the 96 tram as it hurtled towards St Kilda. On a crowded tram they could talk without the possibility of being overheard.

  “The Peregrini.” Mia said. “Strangulation.