~~~
‘We’ve got an alarm.’
Olin turned to the tech operating one of the consoles in the operations room. ‘Who? Where?’
‘Position nineteen. Detective Hunter. Her biomonitor spiked and… Shit! She’s gone flatline!’
‘All units converge on position nineteen,’ Olin ordered. ‘Get an exact location and get eyes on that site. I’m going out there. I want reports from on-site in my head in thirty seconds!’
~~~
This one was easy to disrobe. His blades slit the plastic cloth easily and he tossed the shreds aside. She lay there on her back like a crumpled doll, eyes staring up at the night sky, blank and dead, and he mused for a second on the shape of her breasts. He had examined some with the same artificial quality in an earlier subject, discovering a synthetic material under the skin designed to enlarge and reshape, and he had marvelled at the never-ending drive humans seemed to have to change nature. He understood corsets and bustles, both of which performed a similar basic function: they altered the form God had provided to something mankind had deemed more attractive. Neither corsets nor bustles were seen regularly in this world, but still the search for perfection went on.
He knew what perfect was and he began the process of making this nameless whore as perfect as he could by cutting into her skin at the top of the costal arch. Blood welled around the incision as he cut down, through her navel, and continued to the pubis. He was about to make another incision when he heard the buzzing sound behind him.
His head snapped about, taking in the hovering device as it started down the alley toward him. He was observed, and by one of the police machines he had seen before. It would be a short time before more arrived along with armed officers. There was no time to complete his work, but he could mark it anyway. His blades clicked into his fingers and he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, dropping it between the subject’s breasts before he stood and ran.
~~~
Fox walked up to the cordon and watched as men, women, and various frames rushed in and out of the alley. She had no expectation of being invited onto the scene itself and no real desire to see another corpse, but when operations had reported a sudden rush of activity in the area, she had felt she needed to check on it.
The expression on Olin’s face when he saw her suggested that he had no intention of inviting her in. Rather the opposite. She watched with a flat expression on her face as he stormed over to the barrier.
‘What are you doing here?’ Olin snapped.
‘I was in the neighbourhood, at a club. Our operations people noticed all the traffic into this area. I figured I’d come over and offer any assistance I could give.’ It was true, even if she expected him to tell her where she could shove her assistance.
‘I told you–’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Who’d he get?’
Olin glared at her for a second. His fists clenched. ‘Detective Hunter. They couldn’t save her.’
‘I’m sorry. I know what it’s like, losing people under your command. Anyone get a view of him?’
‘Oh, we got some good images. Gave chase. He got into the old subway tunnels. There’s an entrance beside the old hospital site.’
Fox looked up and north: even with the building right in front of her, you could see the upper part of the Harlem spire which now occupied that site. ‘I thought all those old entrances were blocked off?’
‘He found a way in. He was seen going down. Had to have it prepared as an escape route.’
‘He used the storm drains over in Brooklyn. It makes sense. You’ll never find him down there. It’s a maze and sections of it are flooded.’
‘We’ll try anyway.’
Fox nodded. ‘I know. He’s killed a cop now. The offer’s still on the table. If I can help, call me.’
‘When Hell freezes over,’ Olin replied, turning away.
~~~
‘He killed a cop,’ Fox said. The atmosphere at Sheela Na Gig was hardly suitable for the conversation, but Naomi was down there doing her dominatrix thing and had asked. ‘I assume they had her dressed up and she got unlucky. I mean, what are the odds?’
‘Probably not high, unless they replaced every street girl with a cop,’ Naomi said. ‘And I don’t think they have that many cops.’
‘No. No, they don’t. One less now. Damn. And they’ll keep trying to trap him, but he’s aware of them now. Their chances have dropped significantly. It’s going to be luck, him getting sloppy, or information.’
‘Information?’
‘Yeah. Something which gives us where to look for him. I’m going to go interview Mortenson on Monday.’
‘Well then, good luck.’
30th October.
‘There was another note,’ Kit said.
Fox opened her eyes to see the hovering web of information in the murder room and turned to where Kit was standing. There was, indeed, another facsimile of a handwritten note hanging beside her, linked to an ID photo of Glory Hunter. ‘He’s getting almost verbose. What does this one say?’
‘“They do not call her Ginger, but I know her all the same.” Mary Kelly was called “Ginger,” which is where the assumption that she was a redhead comes from, though descriptions of her vary.’
‘And Hunter wasn’t a redhead. She’s blonde. Not even strawberry-blonde. That settles it: these notes aren’t about the victims.’
‘I would suggest they refer to a future victim, is that correct?’
‘That’s my take.’
‘There is no suggestion in the case file notes that Inspector Olin has come to that conclusion, but he may have simply neglected to write it down.’ Kit turned slightly, taking in the collection of data nodes around Silver Quade’s picture. ‘Interestingly, I found a connection between Miss Quade and Detective Hunter. Connections of any form between the victims have been rare, discounting the links between the Sisters who have been killed, but these two knew each other socially. It might be pure coincidence, however.’
‘Kit… What do we think of coincidences?’
Kit grinned, just a little because more might have seemed inappropriate. ‘We don’t like them. But I would point out that they do happen, frequently more commonly than people expect.’
‘I know. I still don’t like them.’
Boston Metro, 1st November.
Mortenson was looking like a man who had spent a number of days in a NAPA holding cell: tired, somewhat dishevelled, and the spark of superiority was almost gone from his eyes. He sat on the subject’s chair in an interview room in the primary Boston police building; he was quiet, subdued, looking down at the metal table until Fox walked in.
‘You don’t have your sidekick with you,’ Mortenson said, trying to rally some defiance.
Fox sat down opposite him and smiled. ‘I don’t need Teresa for this. She was with me to translate geeky asshole into English. We’re going to be talking about a serial killer and his sidekick, uh, that’s you, and I understand murder fine.’
‘I’m not–’
‘Sure you are. You’re thinking because you created him you were the dominant partner in the relationship? No chance. He’s had you under his thumb since before he manipulated you into setting him free.’
‘I didn’t set him free. He escaped.’
Fox sighed. ‘See… that’s been bothering me. The detectives up here were kind enough to send over your interview transcripts, so I know the story. You made a mistake. You networked the servers, hooked them into your office and then your home so that you could monitor them more easily. Ripper found a way to bypass security and escape onto the internet.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘Doesn’t wash. Even if, as you say, he somehow figured out he was something other than a human, that he was in a simulated world, he wouldn’t have the skills necessary to bypass network security. You set him up in a Victorian environment. No computers. How does he figure out how to get out?’
‘He… I don’t–’
‘His mind works very quickly. He could–’
‘And then there’s the selection of victims. He starts out with street girls, much like the original killer. They’re easy marks. A little observation and he can be pretty sure that they’re sex workers and not just women in skimpy outfits. Then he kills one of the Sisters of Corruption. Georgina Parton, a Senior Sister on her way from one client to another. Not an obvious target. Suddenly he’s got a mission beyond the basic one. Suddenly he’s working on sneaking into the chapter house. What was it? Naomi wouldn’t take you as a client when she was in Boston?’
‘Are you implying that I deliberately–’ The outrage almost looked genuine, with just that hint of terror lurking in the back of it to spoil things.
‘I’m saying that you let yourself be seduced by an AI who got you to let him out of his box. Then he blackmailed you, knowing you’d be locked up and tossed out of the university if anyone found out. You helped him adjust. You helped him with the security systems he needed to bypass to get to Carpenter, Iverson, and Nimer, and to find and use his new body. And then you worked out a way to target him at a group of women you don’t like. Since we locked you up, he’s gone back to picking women off the street.’
Mortenson glared at Fox, but she had learned to intimidate people in the Army and he was just an academic with a superiority complex. He looked away. ‘I refuse to say anything else without my lawyer present.’
‘Fine. Generalities then. What’s his obsession with Mary Jane Kelly?’
It seemed like there would be no answer and Fox considered prompting him, but he spoke eventually. ‘He had a fascination with the lore surrounding the original Jack. He described Kelly as the finest example of the transformations he conducted.’
‘Transformations?’
‘That’s what he called them. Transformations to perfection. A woman is only perfect when she’s dead and of no use to any man. He developed the philosophy on his own. This was not part of his initial programming. Apparently he needed to justify the implanted hatred of women, prostitutes in particular. He told me, “Prostitutes are the most imperfect of women, giving themselves to any man with the coin for it. It is my duty to cleanse them, to transform them into something perfect.”’
‘Was that when you realised you had an emergent on your hands?’
Mortenson looked at her. ‘Yes. That was the final indication. You said you needed Doctor Martins to “translate” for you, but you seem to know more about the subject than a typical layman.’
‘My PA is a class four. I’ve had her almost since her initialisation and I’ve watched her develop. She was never designed as the PA of a detective and she’s had to learn to cope with the nastier side of the job. And she’s done exceptionally well at it. And I’ve encountered what was probably an emergent AI before. That one was brainwashing people to kill for it. There’s a damn good reason why the mistakes you made should see you locked in a box for decades. Uncontrolled AIs can be exceptionally dangerous.’
‘More dangerous than unconstrained humans? I’m sure that you’ve encountered many more human killers than electronic ones.’
Fox nodded, conceding the point. ‘You’re right. Humans can be just as deadly. But we try to catch people with tendencies like that early. You took something you designed to be lethal and then you facilitated its release. You had to know what Ripper would do when he got free. You might as well have killed his victims yourself, Mortenson.’
He was not looking at her again. ‘Doctor Mortenson,’ he mumbled.
‘You don’t deserve that title. To most people, a doctor is someone who heals. You are a sociopath and a weakling, and you don’t deserve that title.’ Fox got to her feet. ‘Thank you for your time. I’d imagine that the lead on your case will be talking to you once your lawyer gets here. I hope they get you life.’
~~~
‘Thank you, Fox,’ Kit said once they were in an autocab heading for the MarTech tower and their transport back to New York.
‘What for?’
‘Believing in me, I suppose. You told Mister Mortenson that you thought I had developed well.’
‘You have. You’ve faced things some humans would be fazed by and I’ve not noticed any strange tendencies. You even have a social life outside of your relationship with me.’
‘I suppose I do. I should thank you for allowing that too. Not every owner would allow it.’
‘Huh. Point is, without you as an example, and Terri’s explanation of how the process should work, I guess, I’d be pretty heavily AI-phobic at this point. Terri’s right about getting you on talk shows. You’d be a good ambassador for class fours.’
‘That scares me more than infomorph serial killers!’
Fox grinned. ‘You will be great at it. It’s not like you’d be alone. Terri’s bound to be up there with you.’
‘And you. She’s certain to want you there as my owner and an advocate of my class.’
‘You’re right, it’s a terrible idea.’
Niflhel, 3rd November.
‘It seems ages since you’ve been here. It’s nice to see you again.’ Cleopatra, the regal, if mostly naked, ruler of Alexandria, was busy doing what she did best: lounging.
‘Been too busy,’ Fox replied, taking one of the other loungers. ‘Up to my ears in contract documents, and… You’re aware of the recent Ripper murders?’
‘Of course.’
‘I was contracted by the Sisters of Corruption to look into those and it’s turned out to be… complicated.’
‘Is anything you do simple?’
Fox grinned. ‘A couple of things. This. It’s Kit’s birthday, so I brought her in here for some rest and relaxation. We have relaxed. Energetically.’
Cleopatra laughed. ‘I see. Is she still here?’
‘She’s visiting Vali. I think she has plans.’
‘Oh really? Well, I suppose she is a whole twelve months old today.’
~~~
Kit skipped up the path to Vali’s homestead trying very hard to look carefree. She thought she might be pulling it off, but she was nervous as Hell. Fox had successfully fought off the nervousness for her in Alexandria, but it had mounted a sneaky flanking manoeuvre as soon as Kit had walked out of Fox’s little apartment.
‘Happy birthday,’ Vali said as Kit walked in through the kitchen door.
‘Thank you,’ Kit replied, smiling.
Vali’s brow creased. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, absolutely nothing. I have had a very pleasant hour or so in Alexandria, and now I am here. What could be wrong?’ Vali gave a shrug and turned, moving to the table where he kept the mead. ‘Well, Miss Martins wants me to do chat shows to promote AIs as wonderful people.’ His back was turned: now was the time!
‘And you’re nervous about that? I think you’ll do wonderfully well. You have a good command of the language, a certain charisma, and you are, obviously, very pretty.’ He turned, holding two cups of mead… and almost dropped both of them. ‘Oh!’
Kit stood beside the table. Her tunic was on the back of the nearest chair. Her tail was flicking rapidly back and forth behind her back and her arms were held straight down at her sides. She was almost vibrating with tension. ‘Surprise!’ she said, giving him a terribly nervous smile.
‘I… am… genuinely speechless.’
‘I was hoping more for actions…’
‘I am genuinely actionless.’
Kit’s lips pressed together and her hands started to creep up to cover herself. ‘You don’t want to–’
‘No! I mean, yes! I mean… I just wasn’t expecting… I thought you were still a little angry with me.’
‘What? Oh, I forgave you weeks ago. I thought you
might have noticed.’ She watched an eyebrow rise. ‘Zorra said you wouldn’t.’ She stepped closer and took one of the cups from his nerveless fingers. Then she gulped down some of the contents and almost immediately felt her skin begin to tingle as the code introduced slight interference in her inputs.
Apparently reminded of the synthetic alcohol, Vali took a gulp from his own cup, shuddered, and then reached out a hand to rest on Kit’s shoulder. She let out a little gasp. ‘Is my hand cold?’ he asked.
‘No. I… I would very much like you to do more than touch my shoulder, nice as it feels.’ His hand drifted down, trailing his fingers over her breast. ‘Y-yes… Like that.’
‘You know, the beds in this place are authentic. And a little on the rough side.’
Kit giggled. ‘I don’t care if we do it on the floor, or the grass outside, so long as we do it.’ His thumb was stroking back and forth over her left nipple, which was stiffening rapidly, and driving her mildly insane, or as insane as her base code would allow.
‘Come on, then. We’ll try the bed.’ He turned from her and led the way through a door at the back of the room and then up some rough stairs to what would have been the attic in a normal house. Here there was a small space containing a low bed, more or less a frame containing a straw-stuffed cloth mattress. ‘Um,’ Vali said, frowning, ‘I know I’m really messing with the romance here, but… what about your tail.’
‘Oh, well… My research into human sexual behaviour indicated several solutions. The one I’d like to try requires a little more limberness than some, but it is supposed to be quite satisfying.’ She emptied her mead cup, set it on the floor at the foot of the bed, and then crawled onto the mattress. Pausing on hands and knees, she looked over her shoulder. ‘Of course, this is one option, but I feel it lacks the intimacy of some positions.’
Criminal Minds (Fox Meridian Book 4) Page 20
