I can give you a one-word answer, wallace steinbauer said. Testing. The Colt is tried and tested, with two hundred years of successful operation behind it. The murderer knew the components worked. If he had designed his own gun he would need to test it to make absolutely sure it was going to fire when the chimp pulled the trigger. And you can hardly test a gun in Eden.
I handed the pistol over to Rolf. Everyone keeps talking about templates, and original components, i said. Where did they come from? I know any reference library memory core would have video images of a Colt. But where did actual templates come from? How did you make this one?
Wallace Steinbauer scratched the back of his head, looking faintly embarrassed. My division has the templates for quite a few weapons. It's the potential, you see. If the police or the Governor ever really needed heavy duty firepower, like if those Boston bastards turn violent, I could provide you with the relevant hardware within a few hours. Those stun guns and lasers you're issued with are only adequate providing you don't come up against anything more powerful.
And the Colt is one of the templates?i said wearily.
Yes, I'm afraid so. I didn't know myself until your department came to me with this request. It looks like someone back on Earth just downloaded an entire History of Armaments almanac for our reference source.
Who else has accessed the Colt's file?
Wallace Steinbauer grimaced apologetically. There's no record of any access prior to my request. Sorry.
Has your computer been compromised?
I thought it was a secure system, but I suppose it must have been. There are only five people in the division including me who have the authority to access the weapons files anyway. So the murderer must have hacked in; if they have the skill for that, erasing access records wouldn't pose any problem.
I used singular-engagement mode to tell Rolf: We'll need alibis for Steinbauer and the other four who can access the weapons file. Also check to see if any of them ever had any contact with Maowkavitz.
Yes, sir.
What about records for machine time?i asked steinbauer. Do you know when the original pistol's components were fabricated?
Again, nothing, he said, cheerlessly. We're going to have to strengthen our whole computer system after this. I didn't realize it was quite so open to abuse. It worries me.
So there won't be any record of the materials being taken out of storage either, i concluded glumly.
No. Hiding a kilogram loss would be absurdly easy. We're used to dealing in ten-tonne units here. Unless it's larger than that we wouldn't even notice it's gone.
Great. OK, Rolf, I want Shannon over here to examine the computer system. See if she can find any signs of tampering.
He pulled a sardonic face. We'll be popular. Do you want her to do that before she tries to crack the rest of Maowkavitz's files?
I winced as I tried to sort out a priority list in my mind. No, Maowkavitz's files must come first. The Cybernetics Division computer is a long shot, but I would like it covered today. Do we have someone else who could run through it?
I could try, if you like. I took software management as my second subject at university.
OK, see what you can come up with. And also run a check through any other memory cores you can think of, see if the Colt's template was on file anywhere else.i gave wallace steinbauer a tight smile. I'd like you to install some stronger safeguards in your computer procedures as soon as possible, please. The idea of people being able to walk in here any time they like and load a template for an artillery piece isn't one I enjoy. I am responsible for Eden's overall security, and this seems like a gaping flaw.
Sure, I'll ask Quantumsoft if they can supply us with a more secure access authority program.
Good. Did you know Penny Maowkavitz?
He inflated his cheeks, and let out an awkward breath. Definitely a question he really did not want to be asked. I knew her. We had to keep the Biotechnology Division informed about the raw material produced by the digestive organs, especially if there were any problems. It was strictly an inter-department contact.
Penny was intractable, i suggested.
You've heard.
Yeah.
We didn't get on terribly well. But there was no point in making an issue out of it. I'm due back to Earth in another four months. And there was her illness . . .
I think you're the first person I've met that doesn't like it here.
I do like Eden, he protested lightly. It's interesting work, challenging. But the Snecma company has offered me a vice-presidential post in the New Kong asteroid. Better pay, more responsibility. I couldn't turn that down.
I left Rolf in Wallace Steinbauer's office to review the Cybernetics Division computer, and drove myself over to Penny Maowkavitz's house. By Eden's standards it was lavish, though nothing like as ostentatious as she could afford. She had built herself a U-shaped bungalow, with the wings embracing an oval swimming pool. It was set in a large garden which was shielded by a hedge of tall fuchsia bushes. I guessed Maowkavitz had designed the bushes herself; the topaz and jade flowers were larger than my fist, looking like origami snowflakes. Quite beautiful.
Davis Caldarola was sitting in a chair at the poolside, slouched down almost horizontally. He was in his fifties, just starting to put on weight. A ruby-red sports shirt and baggy shorts showed me limbs with dark tanned skin and a mass of fine greying hair. A tall glass was standing on the table beside him, rapidly melting ice cubes bobbing about near the bottom. I guessed at vodka and tonic. A second guess that it wasn't his first today. I made a conscious effort not to check with Eden.
He gestured roughly at a nearby chair, and I dragged it over to him.
«Ah, Eden's Chief of Police, himself. I'm honoured. I was wondering when you'd come calling,» he said. The voice was furry, not quite slurred, but close. In his state, I don't suppose he wanted to try holding his thoughts steady enough to use the affinity symbionts. «Your people have been barging round in the house for days.»
«I'm sorry if they're getting in your way. They were told to be as quiet as possible.»
«Ha! You're running a murder investigation. You told them to do whatever they have to, and bugger what—« He broke off and pressed his fists to his forehead. «Shit. I sound like the all-time self-pitying bastard.»
«I think you're entitled to feel whatever the hell you like right now.»
«Oh, very good; very clever. Christ Almighty.» He snatched the glass off the table and glared at it. «Too much of this bloody stuff. But what else is there?»
«I need to know what you can tell me about Penny, but I can come back later.»
He gave a loud snort. «I wouldn't if I were you. I'll be even worse then.» The last of the vodka was downed in a swift gulp. «What can I tell you? She was awkward, argumentative, obstinate, she wouldn't tolerate fools at all, let alone gladly. They all knew that, they all tiptoed around her. ‘Making allowances for her brilliance.' Like bollocks. They were jealous, all of them; her colleagues, her company staff, even that yogi master fruitcake Chong. She wasn't brilliant, she was a fucking genius. They don't call this Eden for nothing, you know, and it's her creation.»
«You're saying people resented her?»
«Some of them, yeah.»
«Anyone in particular?»
«God, I don't know. They're all the same, fawning over her in public, then stabbing her in the back once she's out of earshot. Bastards. None of them are sorry she's gone, not really. The only one who was ever honest about hating her guts was Chong's bimbo. The rest of them . . . they ought to hand out Oscars for the acting at that funeral.»
A servitor chimp came out of the house, carrying another tall glass. It put it on the table beside Davis Caldarola, and picked up the empty one. Davis gave the new glass a guilty look, then squinted over at me. «Have you got any idea who did it?»
«Not a specific suspect, no. But we've eliminated a lot of possibles.»
&nbs
p; «You haven't got a fucking clue, have you? Jesus, she's murdered in full view, and you don't have one single idea who did it. What kind of policeman are you?»
I steeled my expression, and said: «A persistent one. I'll find the culprit eventually, but I'll do it a lot quicker with your cooperation.»
He wilted under the rebuke, just as I expected. Davis was a grieving drunk prone to tantrums, not an anti-establishment rebel.
«I want to know about her,» I said more gently. «Did she talk to you about her work?»
«Some. We were a stimulus to each other. I listened to her describe her genetics projects; and I explained my own field to her. She was interesting and interested. That's why our relationship worked so well, we were compatible right across the board.»
«You're an astronomer?»
«Astrophysicist.» He grinned savagely. «Get it right. There's some in my profession who'd be badly offended by that. Think yourself lucky I'm so easygoing.»
«Does the JSKP pay for your work?»
«Some of it, my position is part-funded by the University of Paris. I'm supposed to be studying Jupiter's gravitational collapse. Interesting field.»
«You don't sound very enthusiastic.»
«Oh, there's enough to captivate me. But there's a lot else going on up here, more provoking puzzles. Even after all this time observing Jupiter at close range, and dropping robot probes into the atmosphere, there's very little we know about it, certainly what goes on within the deeper levels, below the altitude which the probes can reach. Our solid-state sensor drones implode long before they reach the semisolid layers. All we've got on the interior is pure speculation, we don't understand what happens to matter at those sort of compression factors, not for sure. And Christ alone knows what's actually taking place at the core. There's a hundred theories.»
«And Penny was interested?»
He picked the glass of vodka up, swirled the ice, then put it down without drinking any. «Yeah. Academically, anyway. She could follow the arguments.»
«What did she tell you about her work?»
«Whatever she wanted. What bugged her, what was going well, new ideas. Christ, she would come up with some bizarre concepts at times. Balloon fish that could live in Jupiter's atmosphere, mythological creatures, webs of organic conductors which could fly in the Earth's ionosphere.»
«Anything really radical?»
«What? Those not enough for you? Don't you want to see dragons perching on the mountaintops again?»
«I meant something which could upset national economies, or put companies out of business.»
«No, nothing like that. Penny wasn't an anarchist. Besides, ninety per cent of her time was still tied up with developing the next generation of habitats. She was determined to do as much as she could before . . .» He trailed off helplessly.
«So, no secret projects, no fundamental breakthrough to crown her achievements?»
«No. The habitats were enough for her.»
«Did she ever mention anyone she was having trouble with?»
He gave the glass another covetous look. «No individuals. She was narked with some of the Boston crowd—« He stopped. Flinched. «You know about them?»
«Oh, yes. I know all about you.»
He grunted dismissively. «Big deal.»
«I take it the Boston argument was over the timing of independence?»
«Christ, some secret society we are. Yes. OK. All right, everyone knows it. Penny wanted the declaration as soon as the cloudscoop was operational. She was trying to talk people round, those that supported Parkinson. Which wasn't a good idea, she's not the diplomatic type. I was doing what I could, trying to help. She deserved to see independence.» His eyes narrowed on my uniform's UN insignia. «The old order overthrown.»
«What about you and her, did you ever argue?»
«You shit. You think I'd do that? I'd kill Penny? You fucked-up Gestapo bastard.» He hurled the glass of vodka towards me in an unsteady lurch. I didn't even have to duck, the aim was so wild. It splashed into the pool and sank, leaving just the ice cubes floating about.
I wanted to tell him. That it was just procedure. That he shouldn't take it personally. And that, no, I didn't think he killed her. But his whole face was contorted into abject misery, on the verge of tears.
Instead, I stood up and mumbled something vaguely apologetic. I don't suppose he even heard. Another servitor chimp carrying a fresh glass was already heading over to him when I slid open a patio door and stepped into Penny Maowkavitz's study.
Nice going, boss, shannon said. she was sitting in a luxurious scarlet swivel chair in front of a computer console, registering moderate exasperation.
You know I had to ask.
Yes. And I could have told you what reaction you would get.
Yeah.
But then that's what Davis would do even if he was guilty.
I looked at her in surprise. Do you think he's guilty?
No.
You're a big help.
How did it go at the Cybernetics Division?
Not good. Their computer security is a shambles. How are you making out with this one?i gazed at maowkavitz's computer; it was a powerful hypercube marque, with enough capacity to perform genesplice simulations. shannon had removed three panels from the side of the console, exposing the neat stack of slim processor blocks inside. a rat's nest of fibre-optic ribbons wormed their way through the databuses, plugging the system into several customized electronic modules lying on the carpet.
Shannon shoved some of her loose copper hair back from her forehead, and pointed to her own laptop terminal balanced on the edge of the console. Tough going, but I think I'm making progress.
I frowned round the study; it was almost depersonalized. A white-wall cube with a few framed holograph stills of various animals and plants I suspected where Maowkavitz's own gene-adaptions. How come Eden doesn't know the codes?
It can't see in. The whole room is made of composite, even the floor, and the patio door is silvered.
Funny. Not allowing her own creation to see what she was up to.
You think that's significant?
Insufficient data, which you're going to rectify for me. Today, remember?
If Boston includes police unionization and improved working conditions on its manifesto, they'll get my vote.
After that interview with Caldarola, which I can only describe as badly bungled, I drove back to the police station with the first chill of depression souring my thoughts. Or maybe it was plain honest guilt. I should have gone easier on Davis Caldarola; I knew full well he wasn't in any state to answer difficult personal questions. Then again, Shannon was quite right saying what she had: if he was guilty, that's exactly how he would behave.
Eden.
Yes, Chief Parfitt?
Did Maowkavitz and Caldarola argue very often?
They disagreed over many things. But their discussions were mainly conducted on a rational level. I would judge that they debated rather than argued. Although I do recall several rather intense rows over the years; but none of these occurred during the last eight months. His attitude towards her was one of complete devotion.
Thanks.
I didn't really suspect him. But, Christ, you've got to go by the book. Without that, without the law, nothing would function, society would cease to exist. Police work is more than tracking down lone lunatics. But I didn't expect Davis Caldarola would be too interested in a sociology lecture right then.
I was right. I did feel guilty.
I still hadn't unpacked the small box of personal items I'd brought with me to the office. There wasn't much in it, holograms of Jocelyn and the twins, paper books, some carved quartz we'd picked up on a holiday—God knows where, the memory was long gone. I sat at the desk and stared at it. I simply couldn't be bothered to make the effort to unpack. Besides, if Boston did make a bid for independence after the cloudscoop was lowered, I might b
e packing it up again real soon. If I didn't stop them. If the police wouldn't follow orders to stop them. If I didn't join them.
Christ.
I put my head in my hands and allowed myself a long minute of self-indulgent pity. It was no practical help, but wallowing in misery can feel great on occasion. Almost refreshing.
Eden.
Yes, Chief Parfitt?
Give me the identity signature for Lynette Mendelson, please.
The memory wasn't quite a visual image, more like an emotional sketch. I carefully ran through the procedure for singular engagement—it would never do for this conversation to be public property—and called her, projecting that unique mental trait which encapsulated her essence.
The response was more or less what I expected when I identified myself.
Oh, shit, I might have known you'd dump yourself into my life sooner or later, lynette mendelson groused. What did that bastard Zimmels tell you about me?
Only that he caught you trying to sell copies of the genomes for some new transgenic vegetables grown up here.i tactfully didn't mention what else was in her file. lynette mendelson worked for the jskp in eden's agronomy division as a soil chemistry specialist. it put her in a position where she had access to each batch of pacific nugene's new crop designs as they came out of the laboratory for field testing. it was a position which subjected her to a great deal of temptation. especially as she had a record for fencing prototype dna splices back on earth. technically, she should never have been allowed up here; jskp didn't employ anyone with a less than spotless record. but zimmels had vetoed the personnel department's rejection. a deceptively wily man, zimmels. because, sure enough, after twenty fascinating months spent analysing lumps of soil mendelson reverted, true to form. as an entrapment exercise, it was damn near perfect.
Zimmels made her the inevitable offer: join Boston, or get shipped back to Earth where JSKP will probably have you prosecuted, and certainly have you blacklisted. Unemployment and the dole for life.
A Second Chance at Eden nd-7 Page 13
