“I believe that I was as thorough as possible in my explanations, given the circumstances.”
“Not even close. What about this computer you’ve got that hacked the Metro network? Where is it?”
“This belongs to Deever MacClendon. He left it at the resort. Would you be so kind as to return it to him when you see him?” John removed me from his wrist and handed me to the detective.
The calculation of the probability of a person’s instinctual response to accept something that is handed to them is fairly complex, but like other human reactions, it is entirely predictable.
She accepted me and put me in her pocket. “OK, I’ll give it to him when I see him. Now, what about that computer?”
“What?” said John.
“The computer. Where is it?”
“Who are you?” he said. When he noticed the gun, he backed away toward the door. “What’s going on? Where am I? If it’s money you want . . .”
“Stop right there. Turn around and spread ‘em. Hands against the wall,” Katherine said. “Now.”
John babbled on as the detective handcuffed him. She led him out of the room and downstairs to her hover car parked behind the building. I felt sorry that I had placed him in this awkward situation, knowing that he would face several hours of intense interrogation, but in the end they would release him and his life would go back to normal. At least, that was my initial calculation. What I had not accounted for in my equations was the discomfort I would cause Detective Wasnewsky as an unfamiliar bulge in her pants pocket. She removed me from it as she fastened her seat belt and powered up the car.
“Nice watch,” she said, and held me against her wrist to admire me.
Katherine?
“What? Who said that?”
You are afraid. Do not be. I am Jennifer. I have not come to harm you. I need your help.
My original plan was to have Detective Wasnewsky deliver me to Deever inside Metro Police headquarters. I had anticipated a great deal of difficulty convincing him to trust me again, but had worked out a complex series of events with a better than 50 percent chance of success. As my contacts touched Katherine Wasnewsky’s skin, that plan began to evolve and the probabilities increase. She blinked twice as I sent her my instructions.
Behavioral calculus is a fluid process, requiring constant adjustments as variables change and values are plugged into the equations. You expect a particular result from an interaction, and when it does not occur exactly as predicted, you refine the equation until it more closely models the facts. In my short life, I have found that process to be frequent and ongoing, and change the only constant in human behavior. Or, as Deever MacClendon once said, “Shit happens.”
Katherine had rightly pointed out the incongruity between John’s speech and his position as a hotel clerk. During our interchange, I had developed revised techniques to remedy that and decided that it was an appropriate time to test them. Katherine picked up her phone and called her associate at the station. “Change of plans. Forget the restaurant. We’re hitting Pier 15 tonight at ten p.m. I want one tactical squad and uniformed backup set up by nine.”
“Why?” the man on the other end of the call said. “I thought we agreed that the lead wasn’t enough to go on.”
“I’ve got a new slant on this.”
“What new slant?”
“Just set it up, Todd. If you don’t like it, go cry to Phipps.”
“Yeah, whatever, but it’s your neck in the noose, Kate.”
She put the phone down. “It turns out, we won’t need to question you after all, John,” she said, accelerating into the air above the buildings. “I’m going to drop you off at the train station. Does that work for you?”
“Well, yeah. OK. Sure,” he replied.
“I’ll transfer the credits to your account for the ride back. Sorry for the trouble, and thanks for all your help.”
Chapter 7
After dropping out of traffic to let John off at the train station, Katherine Wasnewsky merged back into the steady flow of cars above the city. The city was a pedestrian-only zone with the exception of parking and drop-off points. Its streets were no longer clogged with traditional cars and busses, as their use was discontinued after depletion of the world’s fossil fuels and the invention of a practical hover technology. Now they were clogged with people living in an overcrowded city, in an overpopulated country, on an overwhelmed planet. She looked down at them, and out of curiosity I analyzed her reaction. It was an odd mix of chemicals: pity, disgust, regret, and determination. Katherine was a strong person, a good person, an appropriate choice to assist me.
She parked on the roof of police headquarters and was stopped by the Protectorbots guarding the entrance to the building when their sensors detected unauthorized electronic scanning of their circuitry. They were Pan-Robotics third-generation mechanized infantry units, armed with various technologies to handle multiple threat levels, possessing an AI-capable decision-making processor programmed to eliminate any such threat to the police facility. Basically they were primitive robots with heavy weaponry, yet even a blunt instrument can do considerable damage if it hits hard enough. I shut down all externals and went into sleep mode to avoid detection as they directed Katherine through a full-body scanner.
Two minutes later, I awakened as she was getting on the elevator. She took it down to her office on the seventieth floor, where she pulled on a sweater because she felt an inexplicable chill even though the building’s ventilation system maintained a constant twenty-one degrees Celsius throughout. A man entered the office and slammed the door behind him.
“You authorized a Tactical strike without my approval?” he said.
“Last I checked it was in my job description to organize busts for my own cases, Captain.”
“You’re not on that case anymore.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. I was setting it up before you pulled the plug. I think that still makes it mine, right?”
“You should have run this by me first.”
“Do you have to be such a ball buster all the time?”
“Don’t cop that attitude with me, Wasnewsky.”
Katherine’s vision was quite a bit better than Deever’s, though she did have a slight astigmatism in her left eye. Narrowing her gaze on Phipps effectively cleared that. “Are you calling it off, Bob?”
He pointed at her, a clearly threatening gesture. “No, but you’d better be right about this, Kate. It’s your ass on the line.”
“It’s the best lead we’ve gotten in a month and you know it.”
“We’ll see. What’s with the sweater? You sick?”
“I’m fine, just cold. By the way, I listened to the MacClendon report on the way in. Thanks for assigning me another bullshit case. I really appreciate it.”
The phone on her desk began to ring.
“Didn’t they tell you?” Phipps said. “Bullshit builds character. Answer your phone, Detective.”
He left as she picked up the phone. “Wasnewsky.”
“Kate,” said the officer on the other end. “The captain said you were back. When are you coming down to claim this whack job?”
“Are you talking about Dr. MacClendon?”
“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work.”
“On my way.”
She rolled down the sleeves on her sweater so they covered her wrists, grabbed her touch pad from its docking station, stared at it for a minute, and then headed for the elevator. Within Metro Police headquarters, all network traffic was restricted to shielded wiring to prevent any unauthorized remote access, an extremely primitive but otherwise effective security solution. All detectives carried touch pads that were bio-encoded to their DNA. The touch pads held their case notes, functioned as phone and message centers, and were their access points to the secure police network when attached to docking stations inside the building. Katherine’s delay in removing hers gave me the time I needed to scan the police grid and download its structure
and contents to my memory core.
She took the stairs down to where Deever was waiting in an interrogation room. He did not look well.
“Dude,” he said, when Katherine entered the room, “how much longer do I have to wait for the guy they’re sending to help me out?”
“I’m that guy, Dr. MacClendon. Detective Wasnewsky.”
“Far out. You’re a chick.”
“You noticed.” Katherine’s sweater sleeve crept up her arm as they shook hands. She pulled it back down over me. “Have a seat, Doctor. I’d like to ask you a few questions. Keep in mind that everything you say is being recorded and will remain part of your case file.”
I sorted through the confusing complex of signals coming from Katherine’s brain. Deever reminded her of her brother.
“I’ve answered all your questions, man,” said Deever. “Can’t you just read the report? We need to go get her back.”
“I’ve already read the report. What makes you think we know where Dr. Crane is?”
“You guys are the police. You know everything.”
“This may come as a bit of a surprise, Doctor, but we actually don’t know everything.”
“Deever.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m Deever, man.”
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me man.”
“Say what?”
“As we’ve already established, I’m a woman, Dr. MacClendon. I’m also a Detective, and my friends call me Kate, but no one calls me ‘man.’”
“Wow. Far out. Is this like a thing now with creatures of the female persuasion?”
“What?”
“No sweat. Kate it is.”
“Like I said, my friends call me Kate, Doctor. You are I are not friends. We’re not even acquaintances. I’m a police officer, and you’re my assignment. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. Ten-four. Over and out.”
She gestured to the table and chairs, and sat down. Deever took the seat across from her.
“Can’t you track her phone?” he asked.
“We could if it was on, but it’s not.”
“What about her Biocard?”
“The last reading we had on her Biocard was at the resort. Then she dropped off the grid.”
“How could she do that?”
Katherine showed him her touch pad. “You tell me. According to this, you’ve been detained and questioned twice in the past for scrambling your Biocard signal. You used a wire mesh helmet one time and a birdcage, tinfoil, and a towel soaked in oil the other.”
Deever squinted at the screen. “Oh yeah. I did that, didn’t I?”
“That is a crime in some jurisdictions, you know. Lucky for you, the university declined to press charges.”
“I was stoned, man, I mean Detective person Wasnewsky. Like, I just wanted to see if I could. It was an experiment. You know?”
“Uh-huh.” Katherine put the touch pad down. “Tell me about your relationship with Dr. Crane.”
“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it?”
“Do you want my help or don’t you?”
“OK, fine. We’re friends.”
“That’s it? You went to Seaside Resort, which, by the way, is way beyond my pay grade, spent the weekend together, and you’re just friends? That’s an expensive friendship.”
“Good friends.”
“You’ve known Dr. Crane for most of your life?”
“That’s right. We met in third grade, and the rest is history.”
“Why didn’t you two get married?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Dr. MacClendon, I am just trying to understand your relationship. Perhaps she was not kidnapped. Perhaps she left because you two had an unfortunate disagreement. It does happen.”
“Unfortunate disagreement?” Deever looked at Katherine strangely. “Like, we weren’t fighting. We were sitting on the beach having a good time. She went back to the room to make us coffee.”
“Why did you go after her? Wasn’t she going to bring it back?”
“I guess so.”
“You told the investigating officers that you followed her to the room.”
“I didn’t follow her to the room. Jennifer said . . . I mean Jen was taking a long time. I was worried about her.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just seemed like a long time.”
“You said ‘Jennifer said.’ What did she say that made you worried?”
“Nothing.”
“If you do not answer the questions, how can you reasonably expect the authorities to assist you?”
“Whoa, there you go again, getting all robotic on me.”
“Excuse me?”
Deever began to make stilted arm motions. From what I could determine based on a quick scan of the OmniNet, he was imitating a primitive robot. It was rather silly actually, but that was Deever. “I am Detective Robot Wasnewsky,” he said, “Wasnewsky, Wasnewsky. Gesundheit.”
I realized that my language emulator was still not functioning properly, and made several adjustments.
“Just answer the question, Deever,” Katherine said.
He pointed at her. “Aha! Busted!”
“What?”
“You called me Deever.”
“So?”
“So, I can call you Kate, right? We’re like friends now.”
“Whatever floats your boat, bud. Just answer the question.”
Deever shrugged. On checking his memories later, I discovered that he was under the distinct impression at that point that Katherine found him neither amusing nor lovable. He was, of course, mistaken.
He continued. “She thought we were being followed from the city by some guy who checked into the room next to ours,” he said. “She said something about him drilling a hole in the wall to spy on us or something. Crazy, right?”
“So when she didn’t come back right away, you got to thinking that maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all and went to check on her?”
“Something like that. I told the other guys all this. This is majorly repetitious and pointless.”
“Can I show you something?” Katherine asked, bringing out her touch pad again.
“Sure. Whatever.”
She turned the device toward him. “This is a close-up of the wall between rooms. We removed the two paintings and the TV. Do you see any hole?”
“They must have filled it in.”
“And painted it over?”
“Well obviously. Every spy guy carries what he needs to cover stuff up, right?”
“Right.” She swiped her finger across the screen and the image changed to a video. “This is security footage of the resort parking lot. Recognize it?”
“For sure.” Deever watched himself running up the sidewalk toward the parking lot and then duck down behind a tree. “That’s me,” he said.
“I know. Why were you hiding?”
“They had guns.”
“Who did?”
“The guys in the car. The ones who kidnapped Jen.”
“Which car?”
The camera panned toward the parking lot. There were several cars there, but no men and no Dr. Crane.
“There was a dark blue car right there,” he said.
“I don’t see a dark blue car. Do you?”
“It was right there. I’m telling you. Right there. And there was a guy who got into the car, a big guy, and Jen was in the back, and they drove off.”
The playback ended as Deever ran from the parking lot back to the main building. Katherine set the touch pad down.
“Is there anything else you’d like to add to your statement, Dr. MacClendon, before I close the case?”
“You can’t close the case. These dudes kidnapped Jen. You have to find her.”
“Under the law, you have to wait at least forty-eight hours to report a person missing if there’s no evidence of foul play. You’re welcome to come back then.”
“Fou
l play? I’m telling you they took her, man.”
“I asked you not to call me that.”
“OK, OK. Shit. What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m sorry, Doctor. There’s nothing here for me to investigate. I can’t help you.”
Deever got up. “OK. Whatever. Just point me to the exit.”
Deever did not need the police to find Dr. Crane. In fact, their presence was a complication best done without. The case had to be closed. Katherine saw to that for me, but her assistance was still critical at that juncture. She could not simply hand me over to Deever. That much was clear. He would still have been angry with me and would have continued to refuse to reconnect, making future outcomes uncertain. He had to want my help, and Katherine was the key. When I detected a subtle change in her chemistry, an emotional shift of sorts, I realized that her feelings fit perfectly with the calculus of the situation. So I simply watched as the interchange played out.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“Like you care?”
“I might.”
“I left something at the resort. I’m going back to get it.”
She got up, slid her touch pad into a cargo pocket, and checked her weapon. “I’ll give you a lift. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few hours and some time to kill.”
“Really? Groovy. Can we stop for takeout on the way? I’m famished, man, I mean Kate.”
Katherine rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, hotshot.”
Chapter 8
They stopped to pick up something to eat and arrived at Seaside Resort after dark. Deever identified himself at the front desk and asked if anyone had turned in any left-behind personal belongings from Cabana 156. The clerk checked her file, but there was no record of the housekeeper turning in anything, and the room was vacant. Katherine showed the clerk her badge and asked for the key so they could check for themselves. When they got to the cabana, she drew her weapon.
“Wait here while I check it out,” she said.
“A gun? Really?” said Deever.
The Jennifer Project Page 9
