by Jason LaPier
Runstom pursed his lips together and managed a smile. “Is there any way we can at least have a look around?”
“A tour?” Jax added. “A little preview, something to give me a taste of what the program will include?”
The manager looked from Runstom to Jax quietly, then finally said, “How long have you been a Life Support Operator, Mr. Johnson?”
Jax cringed at the uninspired alias they’d come up with just before entering the office, then tried to shake off the discomfort. “Four years now. For the first couple of years I mostly worked with the BreatheTime 6000 series and the Cloud-i-Dome DXr and DXs, but more recently with the VSI 12K line.”
“Yes, that’s good to hear.” The plant manager brightened significantly. “The 12K stuff is some of the best. Very efficient for the price. Efficient and economical.”
“Ah,” Jax said with a smile. “I don’t know much about the cost, but I know how much easier it is to operate than the other systems I’ve worked with.”
“I suppose a tour of the plant wouldn’t harm anything,” the manager said. “After all, you came all the way from Barnard-4.”
She led them into and through the mazelike plant. Jax tried to keep up the façade of interest while trying to keep a lookout for anything that would give them clues about how the inspections worked, and especially for anything marked with inspector identifiers, R and G. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested – in fact, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded at all to get a better understanding of what went into the systems that he’d been on the operating end of for the past few years. But the truth of it was, the familiarity of it all was yanking him back into a life that didn’t exist any more, and it was seriously fucking with his head. Was this a life he even wanted to return to? The safety of the domes? Wasn’t it?
“We’d like to meet some of the inspectors,” Runstom said as they neared the end of the line. Jax flinched at his bluntness. Clearly the officer was running out of patience.
“Our inspectors?” the manager said. “Well, there are some inspection engineers in another section of the plant. But I’m afraid that part is not open to the public. For protective reasons.”
“You mean, it’s dangerous?” Runstom asked.
“Well, no.” She seemed to consider the question for a moment, her eyes drifting upward. “I mean, if anyone saw what we do to test the systems – well, it’s just not for public eyes.”
The three of them stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Jax said, “She’s just obeying the rules.”
Runstom frowned and shifted his body anxiously, tugging at his shirt to straighten it. Finally he said, “We need to know what inspectors are under the combined ID of ‘RG’.”
Jax wanted to say more, but he knew Runstom was right. They had no more time to mess around. The manager cocked her head, then took a reflexive step backward. “What is this? Who are you?”
He got out his credentials. “Stanford Runstom, Modern Policing and Peacekeeping. We’re investigating a criminal case and we need to know the names of those inspectors.”
An hour later, they were on another mag-rail, back out from Grovenham, this time to a residential sub-dome called Tamillan. They had come back from Industrial Sub-Dome A only to pass straight through Grovenham and out the other side. On toward what could possibly be their final destination on Sirius. They rode in silence for the first half of the trip out. Runstom knew Jax wasn’t happy that he’d pulled the ModPol card, but they’d gotten the results they were looking for.
“What are we going to do when we get there?” Jax said, finally broaching the subject.
Runstom had his notebook out, but he wasn’t really reading it, just kind of staring at it. “I don’t know exactly.”
The officer fidgeted. This was it. They had the name of their suspected programmer. Their last viable lead. They were just about out of cash. They were probably long overdue for getting caught by ModPol. In any case, ModPol would be on them very soon now. Runstom’s credentials only held weight when they could be verified, which meant someone at the plant office had to run them through the system. Normally, cred-validation would get logged for some ModPol drone to review the details as they worked through a backlog. But Runstom knew that there would be a flag somewhere just for him that would set off alarms.
Only one of the VSI employees that were part of the “RG” team had checked out a LifSup system for an off-site inspection in the last couple of months: a core-programming inspector by the name of Jenna Zarconi. She had identified a particular quirky flaw in one of the systems coming off the line and logged her reasons for needing to take it home over the weekend for analysis. The check-out log also mentioned that the problem could be systematic, and that there was a potential that other systems coming off the line could suffer from the same issue. She had needed to investigate further, and couldn’t wait until the following week.
The core of the LifSup system was basically just a specialized computer. It was small enough without the peripheral components that she would have easily transported it home, probably just taking it with her on the rail. The check-in log a few days later showed a mea culpa, with an explanation having something to do with a false-positive on a poorly designed test. Jax postulated that the management was probably so relieved to find out that there was not a serious issue on their line, they overlooked the fact that the flawed test was actually written by Jenna Zarconi herself. The phrase who examines the doctors? came to Runstom’s mind when Jax explained this detail, though he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. It had the ring of something his mother would say. In any case, it seemed the inspector had written a test that she knew would fail so that she would have an excuse to take the component home. That little detail made her a prime suspect in Runstom’s book.
“What worries me,” Jax said, one hand inside the other, cracking the individual joints in his fingers one at a time. “Is that she’s probably not X. That she’s another pawn. But she knew what she was creating. She was a pawn who knew she was creating something that would hurt people.” He was almost arguing with himself.
“Maybe she’s not a pawn,” Runstom said in a low voice. “Maybe she’s a partner.” He gave himself a minute to digest his own insight. Maybe she was X’s partner. She was close enough to the worst part of the crime that it was possible. “In any case, you’re right. She knows what she did, and that makes her dangerous.”
“Great,” Jax mumbled.
“We have to get it out of her first,” Runstom continued. “We have to make sure she was the programmer. She’s capable, based on her employee profile.”
“If it was her, and she’s being exploited, then X has to be behind it.”
Runstom frowned and looked out the window of the train. The desolate landscape of Sirius-5 blurred on by. “We can start with that angle. Tell her right up front that we’re after X, and we know she was involved.”
“But that we believe she did it against her will,” Jax said, nodding in agreement. “At the very least, we’ll probably get some reaction out of mentioning X at all.”
“Yep.” Runstom knew they’d get a reaction, alright. The officer was not so eager to find another pawn. Another in the long line of victims of exploitation. He was ready to find someone who was guilty. He was ready to find justice.
The scenery went black as the train entered the station tunnel inside the sub-dome Tamillan. He turned and faced the operator. “Now or never.”
CHAPTER 19
“Oh. Hello, Stanford. I thought you were going to call.”
Jax looked from the woman in the doorway to Runstom and back. The woman who answered the door had green skin, similar to the officer’s, although slightly … greener. She was also a lot prettier.
“Hi,” she said to Jax. “I didn’t expect Stanford to bring a friend. Well, to tell the truth – I thought he was going to call me, not just show up.” She stuck out her hand and as he looked at it, he thought about how the color
of her half-sleeve, button-up shirt was the kind of white that most domers couldn’t get away with wearing without it clashing against their skin. “I’m Jenna.”
“Hi. I’m, uh.” It occurred to Jax that he should use an alias, but then again, this woman had used her real first name. And Runstom’s. “I’m Jack.” He took her hand and shook it.
They both turned and looked at Runstom, whose mouth was stuck somewhere halfway between open and closed. “Hi,” he said, finally. “Hey. Jenna. Hi.”
She smiled warmly at him. “It’s good to see you again, Stanford.”
“Um. You too,” Runstom said with a cautious hand motion in her direction, like he was waving to someone he didn’t want to see his friends waving to.
She nodded, still smiling. “So,” she said after an awkward pause. “You fellas want to come in? I was just about to open a bottle of wine.”
“Sure,” Jax said. “That sounds great.” He looked at Runstom, who just blinked meaninglessly at him. The officer’s skin had paled into a kind of ashen, gray-green color.
They followed Jenna inside. Jax went in first, as Stanford lagged behind for a moment, sticking his hands into every pocket and digging around frantically. The woman had a nice place. They walked straight into the living room, which was a fairly large space and featured four very comfortable-looking sitting chairs.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll go get some glasses.”
She went off into another room. Jax gave Runstom a look, trying to mouth the words, “What’s going on?” Runstom just shook his head and sat down. He stared ahead at nothing and put his fingertips to his temples and held them there, as if trying to keep something from escaping out of his skull.
Jenna Zarconi came back into the room with three wine glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. The men stood up and she gave each a glass and poured them some wine, then portioned some out for herself. They all sat down and tasted the wine. Jax got the sense that he wasn’t the only one thankful to have something to occupy his mouth momentarily.
“So, Jack,” Jenna said, after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence. “Did Stanford tell you he met me in a bar yesterday? Over in the main dome.”
“Oh,” Jax said, looking briefly at Runstom. “Yeah, actually, he mentioned that.”
“Are you two – partners – of some kind?” she asked. “Stanford didn’t exactly tell me what he does.”
“He’s a consultant,” Runstom said before Jax could say anything. “A technical expert, if you will. I hired him to assist me with this case that I’m working on.”
“I see,” she said, smiling. This bit of information seemed to put her slightly more at ease. She folded her hands together around her glass.
Jax returned the smile. He felt like he was in the middle of a slow-moving spaceship collision. Like two vessels, neither with any thrusters, drifting toward each other at a crawl. Nothing to do but wait and watch the events unfold; and pray that you’re on a vessel whose Life Support stays intact.
A concerned look suddenly crossed her face. “Stanford?” she said softly, not looking directly at the man. “That card I gave you didn’t have my home address on it.” It was clearly a statement, but she quickly turned it into a question. “Did it?”
Runstom didn’t say anything. Jax thought he looked as guilty as if he held a smoking gun. So much for those undercover instincts.
The silence spoke volumes. “How did you find my house, Stanford?” she asked, quietly but firmly. “My address – it’s not listed publicly.”
Runstom sighed wearily. “Jenna. Jenna Zarconi. Do you work at Vitality Systems, in plant number 11?” The question came out wooden and clipped. “Are you an inspector? An inspector of Life Support systems?”
Jenna Zarconi’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I am. How did you know that?” she asked under hushed breath. “I didn’t tell you any of that last night.”
“I know, Jenna.” Runstom leaned forward, cradling his wine glass in his hands. “It’s the case.” He looked at her and then looked at Jax.
“What are you talking about, Stanford?” Zarconi said. She looked at Jax, then back at Runstom. She arched her back as if to stand, but remained sitting. “Who are you guys?”
Runstom was still looking at Jax, as if giving him permission to take a whack at directing the conversation. “Jenna,” Jax said. “Do you know anyone who,” he started, faltering. Out of context, it seemed like a pretty ridiculous question. “Do you know anyone who goes by the nickname ‘X’?”
The green-skinned woman dropped her glass. It landed on the soft carpet without breaking, and all three of them jumped out of their chairs. She bent down and fussed about with a napkin, trying to sop up the few drops of wine that had been left in the glass.
She stood up slowly, keeping her head low, and spoke into her chest. “Yes, I know X.”
“How do you know him, Jenna?” Runstom asked. Jax could hear the struggle between being a consoling friend and being an interrogating cop fighting it out in his voice.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Jax said. “We’re just looking for answers.”
She lifted her head. A tear was running down one cheek, giving it a bright, green stripe. “I … do work for him. Sometimes.”
“What kind of work?” Runstom prodded.
“Well,” she said, hesitant. “Usually programming. Nothing outright malicious. But writing programs that …” she paused and swallowed.
“That are subversive in some way?” Jax asked. He could have asked her to finish her thought, and maybe she’d be more specific, but he was getting more and more nervous and wanted to move the conversation along.
Zarconi didn’t answer the question, but she nodded briefly. Runstom turned around and walked to the window. He was quiet for the next few moments, and Jax and the woman stared at his back.
“Jenna,” Jax said cautiously. “Our investigation has led us to believe that someone wrote a program.” He took a step toward her, trying to draw her attention away from Runstom. She turned to face him after a few seconds, and he continued. “A specific program, written to work on a Life Support system.”
She looked at Jax and nodded so softly it was almost imperceptible. She didn’t say anything out loud.
Jax went on. “Our investigation has led us to cross paths with a few people who contributed in some way to a crime. Each of these people seemed to know only their own part. Their own job. They were apparently not aware of the overarching crime. They were all manipulated in some way by someone. Someone they each referred to as X.”
She sniffed. “Do you know who X is?” she asked, her voice quiet and croaky.
“No,” Jax said, frowning. “No. We don’t.” He paused, meeting her eyes again. “Do you know the real identity of X?”
Jax watched the woman. Her head didn’t shake or nod in any direction. Her lips trembled, and more tears formed in the corners of her squinting eyes. He thought she looked afraid. Very afraid.
“It doesn’t matter.” Jax felt ashamed for being unable to push her. She obviously knew X, and they needed to get it out of her. He didn’t know what else to say to her. He felt like he needed to open her up more. “Did X force you to write the program?”
“Yes,” she said, creakily.
“Did he force you to follow me?” Runstom said loudly. Jax and Zarconi turned to look at the officer, who was still staring out the window.
“What?” she said.
Runstom turned around. “Listen, Jenna,” he said sharply. “We can help you. But you have to be honest with us.” He took a step forward and she stared at him, frozen. “It was no coincidence we met at the bar yesterday. Grovenham is not that small.”
“Okay,” she said, blinking back tears and clearing her throat. “I know X. I’ve known him for a few years.” She paused, her face twisting. “We used to be lovers.” She swallowed, then added, “And partners.”
“You mean, like business partners?” Jax asked.
She lo
oked at him and frowned. “You could say that.” She turned back to Runstom. “But I left. I wanted to get out of that. I wanted to go straight, live a real life.”
“But he never left you alone,” Runstom said.
“Yes,” she said. “He did. For a while. But then he started calling. Asking me to do things for him. He never asked me to leave my home or my job or anything. He just asked me to write code once in a while.” She blinked and wiped half-dried tears from her face. “He always pays me. And he doesn’t take no for an answer. He has—” She paused and swallowed, as if the next word were stuck in her throat. “Evidence.”
“Of your participation in past crimes,” Jax guessed. After the words came out of his mouth, he realized that was supposed to go unsaid.
“Yes,” Jenna Zarconi said. “But it’s worse than that.” She looked at each of them, and Jax could see fear on her face. “He’s a cop. He’s ModPol.”
Runstom’s face contorted. “X? X is goddamn ModPol? No way.” He folded his arms across his chest. “No goddamn way.”
“Stan,” Jax said excitedly. “That makes perfect sense! The exploited people, the cover-ups. The way those detectives were so ready to close the homicide case.” The look on Runstom’s face – like he’d just been hit across the jaw with a bombball plank – made Jax wish he’d held back his excitement about the revelation.
“Shit.” Runstom shook his head. “Goddamn Porter.” The officer seemed to be talking to himself more than the others. “Didn’t even show up to the crime scene. So quick to be done with the case.” He shook his head again, closing his eyes. “But still. I can’t believe it.” He opened his eyes and glared at Jenna Zarconi. “No.”
“It’s true,” she said, almost whispering. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.”
“Did you know the target?” Runstom said, suddenly changing the subject.
“What do you mean?” she started to ask.
“You know what I mean,” Runstom said sharply, cutting her off. “The program was designed to hurt someone. Someone specific. You knew this. Out of the thirty-two victims, only one was the real target.” He tried to steady his voice. “Did you know who that target was?”
