by Robin Craig
No, Niccolo, she thought to the ghost. There is more to it than that. The price for your life can be too high; so high that if you pay, your life is no longer worth saving. If she had been brought to where the price was letting someone like Miriam die in such a way, then she would not pay it. If she crossed that line, she now saw, no more lines remained to be crossed: there was nothing left between her and the abyss but a steepening slope into a self-made hell ruled by a self-made evil. Until today she had fought with the moral certainty that her cause was right. But if she crossed that line there was no longer any right, nothing but the battling of opposing evils. Do not become what you despise, she told herself: be what you ought to be.
It was getting dark now and it was time to go. She knew she would not lie in wait for Miriam again. And whatever debt she might have owed Miriam for how she had abused her before, she had now more than repaid: even if she was the only one on Earth who knew it. They were still enemies and perhaps her actions today had doomed her. But she knew that at some level, she had already won.
Chapter 31 – DNA
“Hello Rianna. What’s up?”
Miriam had been back at work for a week now. For once she had been content to be stuck in a back room out of the action, but her pulse quickened at Rianna’s next words.
“Hi Miriam. I’ve got a DNA sequence for you from your fire. It isn’t much and not enough for confirmation of identity, but there’s enough for a clue to identity. We got some useless bits – non-human or too conserved among humans to be any use – but two fragments totaling a few thousand bases long in human variable regions.”
“That’s great! I owe you and Kimberley a bottle of champagne!”
“As long as you share it with us. Now, don’t get too excited. Unfortunately there are quite a few bases we couldn’t resolve, so there are a number of ambiguities. The pieces are long enough that not many people will match them, but even the person it came from would only give you a probability match not certainty. I’ve already run it through our standard databases and there aren’t any matches, so whoever it is hasn’t been involved in a previous crime. And don’t forget it could belong to someone entirely innocent. Hairs can transfer from person to person, just blow about in the wind or even be deliberately planted. And to make things worse they are separate fragments: we can’t even be sure that both sequences really come from the same person. Though since they’re from a single hair the chance of contamination from someone else is very low.”
“I still owe you a champagne. A good one. Are there any other databases we can search?”
“Oh, there are lots. Medical, scientific, even government records not strictly associated with crimes. But while some are public access most will be confidential, if not secret. So you’ll need a warrant, especially if you want a name to go with your match. I’m not sure you have the grounds.”
“Leave that to me. And thanks again.”
Now for the harder bit, thought Miriam.
She made her way to Ramos’ office and knocked on the door. “Come in!”
“Hi boss,” she said. “I have some new information, and an idea, about the Katlyn case. Can we go over it? We might want Legal in on it.”
Ramos raised an eyebrow. “What have you got?”
“Remember how the DNA from Katlyn’s warehouse was too degraded and contaminated to be any use? Rianna did some fancy work with it and managed to get some usable sequences out of it.”
Ramos’ eyebrow went up a further notch. “Really? I don’t recall authorizing spending for that. What have you two been up to?”
Miriam’s face smoothed into a suspiciously innocent expression. “Oh, Rianna has separate funding for research and she thought it would make an interesting research program. Apparently she’s getting not only my sequences but also a publication out of it. So all perfectly above board and good for the department’s scientific reputation as well.”
“Hmmm, yes, I’m sure. I do admire innovation. So what do you want Legal for, if it’s not just you two needing a lawyer for unauthorized use of department facilities?”
“The sequences don’t match anything in our usual databases, but according to Rianna there are a lot of others we could search. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s one of the few shots we have. What I’d like to do is set the AI on looking for matches. You know that’s the kind of thing it is for, so no problem there. It’ll just be a background task, low priority, just something for it to do when it isn’t doing anything more urgent. The problem is that most of the databases are confidential and they won’t give up the goods unless the AI can present a warrant. So first I need your authorization, and second I need to see what Legal can get me.”
Ramos considered the issue. It was pretty thin but he had to push this investigation as best he could. “I see. Well, we’re still running with the case so I’ll support you. Hang on.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Hi Jim. Can you send Scott up to my office? We need some advice on electronic warrants for accessing external databases. Yeah, thanks.”
He turned back to Miriam. “While we wait: any other progress?”
“Nothing really. The AI occasionally flags things but none of them are convincing. Our thief appears to have gone quiet, and no more of her victims are talking yet. I can apply some pressure if you think it’s worth it?”
“No, not at this stage. This whole case has been walking a fine line and I don’t want to fall off it. Ah. Hi Scott. Have you met Miriam Hunter? Miriam, this is Scott Harriman. Miriam, you explain the issue.”
“Hi Scott,” she said, shaking hands. “What I want to do is set my AI to querying non-police databases for a couple of short DNA sequences, to find any possible matches. Most are confidential so a search warrant will help a lot in broadening the search. So I want one, and I want one that is as high powered as possible so I can access the most data. What can we do?”
Scott stroked his short beard. “So you have some random sequence, no idea who it belongs to, and you want to query a bunch of databases just in case? I don’t like your chances.”
Miriam frowned. “What would we need, to have a chance?”
Scott shrugged. “Some evidentiary link is the gold standard. But if you had that, you wouldn’t need what you’re after, would you? You’re fishing. Judges don’t like fishing, unless it’s for marlin in the Bahamas.”
“Anything that could get around the anti-fishing sentiment?” put in Ramos.
“Well, maybe. Since you’re using an AI, no person has to see the data, right? So if you can ensure that non-matching data won’t be stored for longer than it takes to do the comparison, or better, your AI itself never even sees the data and has the target do the searching, then that addresses a lot of privacy concerns. It might get you a very limited warrant that will let you into a few places. But to get more than that you’d practically need a national security issue.”
Miriam and Ramos looked at each other. “How about a potential threat to the President?” he asked.
It was Scott’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Ah. That might do it. How good is the evidence for a link?”
Ramos considered. “Well... not ironclad. Maybe strong enough for it to be a credible risk.”
“If you can find yourself a judge who’s strong on security questions, you have a chance. Not a good one. Otherwise you can forget it.”
“OK, I guess we take what we can get. Miriam, can you send Scott what you have? Scott, you do the paperwork. See what you can do about the judge.”
~~~
The next day, Miriam was disappointed though not surprised when Scott told her the judge had refused to issue a warrant. If they could get a firmer link to national security issues the judge would reconsider, but for now it was canned.
Nothing much else was going her way either.
IT had come back to her with their analysis of the burglary recording Delaney had provided. “I don’t know what kind of software your guy has,” Fergus had said, “but it beats anything
we have. We can get your vague blurs resolving into a vaguely human blur, but can’t even see a face. It could be a yeti for all we can tell. Do you mind if I send this to my old tutor? Sam’s a mathematician who’s an expert in image analysis and might be able do something with it.”
“I don’t think Ramos will approve any spending for an external consultant,” Miriam replied dubiously.
“Oh, Sam likes a challenge even more than the money. Besides, it’s like a proof of talent, good for future business. I think I know the buttons to push to swing it. If not, we haven’t lost anything.”
“That’d be great, Fergus. Thanks so much.” If this case ever breaks, I’ll owe so many people so many favors it’ll take me the rest of my career to pay them back.
None of the stolen jewelry had ever shown up. None of the cases of larger theft had yielded clues either. It was as if the owners themselves had transferred the money but weren’t admitting it. They had even started suspecting just that, but it didn’t make any sense. Nothing, Miriam decided, was making any sense. They had a geneh on the loose who couldn’t be a geneh, and whose only image when caught in the act was somebody else. They had a thief breaking in to commit petty theft – at least relative to the victims’ bank balances – and usually leaving no trace, whatever security system the wealthy victim had. They had no thief breaking in, but large sums of money disappearing, without a perpetrator and without a trace. Half the victims acted like suspects, and the other half were as mystified as she was. Neither group liked her.
Miriam was glad she had other things to do, and proceeded to do them.
Chapter 32 – Alarm
“Oh, God,” groaned Miriam, looking at the time. Two in the morning and her phone wakes her. Amaro was still asleep beside her, twitching slightly in some no doubt exciting dream. She wished she could join him.
She frowned at her phone, willing her reluctant eyes to focus. She had it set to vibrate, so Amaro could thank her for that. She also had it set to only bother her if it was really important, and when that fact finally raised its timid hand she willed a little harder for her eyes to wake up.
It was her AI, she saw. This better be good, she thought grimly, tapping the icon to read the message. She almost sat up straight, but suppressed her reaction for Amaro’s sake; then she re-read the message more carefully.
The AI was still living in the past with a lot of its data, but one real-time feed that had been implemented was emergencies. She had set it to keep an eye out for burglar alarm reports from people on her “donors to the President” list that met other criteria relevant to her case. The AI had spotted a curious event: one of the people on her list, apparently the paranoid sort, had installed a rather outdated analog intrusion detection system as a backup to the usual more high tech solutions. It was the former that had been triggered and sent in an alarm to the police. But when the police had queried the man’s AI, it had reported all clear. The police had already filed and forgotten the incident but her AI had been taught more suspicion. The combination of time, person and contradiction passed its threshold of coincidence so it had alerted Miriam.
She swung swiftly but silently out of bed and quickly got dressed in the dim light. She scribbled a quick note, “WORK!” and left it by the bed. Then she crept out of the room, still careful not to disturb Amaro, and made her way to the door where she put on her shoes, collected her keys and let herself out.
“Christ!” she whispered to herself as she started the car. She felt an unreasonable excitement. She knew this was probably nothing and even if it were something they would be too late. But her adrenal glands had their own ideas and she could feel the quiver of the chase livening her blood.
There wasn’t much traffic at this hour and she put the car on auto. The first thing she did after that was ring Jack. Luckily he was as conscientious as she when it came to phones and after a few rings a groggy voice answered, “Miriam? What are you doing calling at this hour?”
“Sorry, Jack. My AI flagged something suspicious, a burglar alarm at the apartment of one of the President’s friends. It was reported by an old analog system but denied by the AI. I know it’s probably a false alarm but if our AI is suspicious so am I. I think we need to check it out. I’m already on my way.”
“OK. I’ll make sarcastic remarks illustrated by severe looks in the morning. Send me the details. You better call the owner, try to get permission to go in. We don’t want any unnecessary delays.”
“Sure, that’s next on my list. See you there.”
She pushed a few more buttons on her phone, hoping the apartment’s owner would be agreeable despite the hour. Most people allowed their phones to let through calls from the police, but even if he was one of them it didn’t mean he would answer: and if he did it was no guarantee he would appreciate it. She remembered uncomfortably Ramos’s warning about disturbing the city’s finest citizens and she could imagine what he would say about doing it at this hour. When at last someone picked up the phone, she was relieved to hear the sounds of faint conversation and laughter in the background.
“Hello? I’m very sorry to call you at this hour, Mr Trevane, but I am Miriam Hunter, a detective with the Special Crimes Unit.”
“Yes? Goddammit, what do you want, Detective? You’re lucky I wasn’t asleep. But this better be good.”
“I have been investigating some strange thefts that might have serious implications, and your secondary burglar alarm reported a break-in at your city apartment. Your AI reported all clear so the local police ignored it, but we have a more specialist AI that flagged the incident as suspicious. Could you please give us permission to enter your apartment? In the presence of your hotel manager, and solely to check that things are fine?”
“What the hell? If my AI says it’s fine, what are you bothering me for?”
“I’m sorry, and I know this is an imposition, but it is very important. We have reason to think that your AI has been fooled somehow. It might be nothing, but it might be related to other such crimes and if it is it is vital that we can gain access. It really is that important. Not only for our other investigations but for your own property.”
There was a long pause on the line and Miriam was afraid that he would just hang up. But finally he answered, “All right, Detective. I’ll let the manager know. I hope it is a false alarm, so I suppose it would be churlish of me to make a complaint if it is.”
“Thank you. It probably is a false alarm, I’m afraid, but I have to check. If it is… well, thank you anyway. Good night, sir.”
Whew, she thought. Hopefully it will be something, and if it isn’t, with luck he’ll just laugh it off.
She took the car off auto and hit the accelerator.
She pulled up at the entrance to the apartment and jumped out of the car. Jack wasn’t here yet so she took the time to look around. Trevane evidently had different taste from most of the others on her list, who tended to favor soaring towers or sprawling country estates. He had chosen to live in The Beehive, an extensive group of tower blocks originally intended for the middle class, inherited by the poorer segments of the community, and finally reinvented as exclusive dwellings for the rich and powerful. The main point in their favor besides a certain retro charm was a combination of proximity to the center of the city and their sweeping views of the river. A light mist was rising from the river tonight, adding a certain layer of mystery to the view.
Miriam strode into the lobby and flashed her badge at the night manager. He had been expecting her and nodded. “Mr Trevane told me to expect you, Detective. Shall we go up?”
“Hold on, please.” She rang Jack. “Where are you? OK.”
“Sorry,” she said, addressing the manager, “we’d better wait for my partner. He’s nearly here.”
The manager went back to whatever managers did at that time of night, while Miriam paced impatiently. After a few minutes the door opened and Jack entered. He looked more disheveled than usual but made no complaint, just said “Well, let’
s check this out.”
They took the lift to the apartment’s floor and looked along the corridor. There was nothing suspicious. They walked along the carpeted floor to the doorway. “OK, Mr, er, Johnson,” whispered Jack, addressing the manager. “Let’s keep this quiet. Unlock the door as softly as you can and let us in. You’ll have to come in with us to keep the owner happy, but if I yell ‘Gun!’ go hide. OK? Let’s go.”
Chapter 33 – Fall
Katlyn heard soft footsteps in the hallway and even softer voices outside the door, and she jerked her head up in alarm. Oh, crap, she thought. She was in the office behind a closed door and figured she had about twenty seconds. She would have to cut short what she was doing, but she couldn’t just leave right away: if she didn’t cover her tracks too much careful work might be compromised. So she forced herself to work quickly but as calmly as possible, even as she heard people enter the apartment, fan out and approach her room. Finally she was done. She grabbed her tools and ran for the window.
~~~
They hadn’t seen anything. No signs of a break-in, no signs of life at all. Now Miriam edged up to a closed door; it looked like an office. A faint light was visible under the door; perhaps some device left on, perhaps light from outside.
A shadow flickered in that light.
“Jack!” she called, and slammed open the door; luckily, it had no lock. She burst into the room and looked about wildly. Nobody. Then she felt a faint breeze and noticed that the glass was missing from the window.
“Jack!” she cried again, “In the office! The window’s open! I’m taking a look!”
She ran to the window and looked down; there was nothing but misty darkness, with a laneway faintly visible far below. Then she looked up and saw a rope, slithering toward the roof ten feet above. She grabbed it and pulled with all her strength. A brief tug-of-war ensued but whoever was at the other end decided that flight was their best option, and Miriam nearly overbalanced as the rope lost its tension. She pulled it taut and began to climb, with a quick shout of “Roof!” into the apartment. She glanced behind her at the dizzying drop and hoped that the rope’s owner would not invest the time needed to cut the tough microfilament cord. The light sound of receding footsteps reassured her on that point.
