The Doomsday Brunette

by John Zakour

  “He’s detached from humanity?”

  “He sees dead people every day, Zach,” Tony said. “He feels that he needs to depersonalize them in order to do his job effectively. That depersonalization sort of extends to everyone he interacts with in his office.”

  “Dead or living?”

  “Do you want to talk with him or not?”

  “Okay, okay,” I said.

  We passed another security check to get into the central room and that’s where we found Dr. Lenny Shakes. He was a thin man with long arms and a strong grip. His face was slightly oblong, his hair hazel and well combed. His manner was business-like, his personality, as warm as could be expected under the circumstances.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said.

  “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Any of it good?” I asked.

  “Most of it fictional. At least I hope so.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Tony said.

  “I understand you’ll be helping us with the Thompson case?”

  “Help is a subjective term,” Tony chimed in. “Zach will be in the loop. So you might as well give him the bad news.”

  “Bad news?” I asked.

  Shakes flipped the lens of his eye computer into place and booted it up with a couple quick blinks. Eye computers are used by anyone who needs to keep their hands free and where voice activation is either ineffective or impossible (librarians, deep sea divers, hookers, that kind of thing). He motioned for us to follow him and he lead us down the hallway to the examination rooms.

  “The bad news is that toxicology on the wine came back negative,” he said. “Forensics scanned it for all thirty thousand poisons in the database. We found nothing.”

  “Nothing in any of the samples?” I asked

  “No poison in the wine bottle, not in any of the glasses, not in the puddle on the floor or on…that thing. What do you call it?”

  “The nymph,” Tony said.

  “Right, nothing on the nymph.”

  “How can that be?”

  Coroner shrugged his shoulders. “You tell me,” he said. “You’re the detective.”

  I turned to Tony. “You saw the computer playback,” I said. “Clearly the wine was poisoned.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree,” Tony said. “But we did the toxicology tests three times. There was no poison. Maybe she had been poisoned earlier and it just happened to take effect the nano she drank the wine.”

  “You think the whole thing was a coincidence? Come on.”

  “All we know is that the wine wasn’t poisoned,” Tony said.

  “Even the wine that was on the victim’s lips was negative for toxins,” Coroner said.

  “Did you find any type of poison in her system?”

  “That’s the other bad news.”

  “There’s more?”

  Shakes nodded and led us to a doorway. He put his finger to the scanner to open the door and then ushered us in.

  “There’s lots more,” he said.

  We were in the main examination room and when Shakes activated the bright overhead lights I almost jumped when I saw Foraa’s body on the table. She was covered, head to toe with a white sheet but her purple hand was peeking out from the edge, dangling off the table like a plum leaf on a November branch.

  Shakes carefully folded back the sheet, revealing just her neck and shoulders. I noticed that her face had grown slightly paler and she was probably more cold to the touch as well. Her expression, though, was unchanged. It was calm and serene.

  “As you know, the sisters are somewhat unique,” he said. “They are genetically enhanced to an astounding degree. There’s also very little known about their physiology. This has presented us with some unique difficulties in terms of the victim’s post mortem examination.”

  “Difficulties such as what exactly?”

  Shakes slid his surgical mask over his nose and mouth and lifted a scalpel from his instrument tray.

  “Watch,” he said.

  He gently took Foraa’s hand and slid her entire arm from beneath the sheet. He turned her hand palm up and put the blade to the underside of her wrist. I jumped.

  “What are you doing?”

  He slashed the blade hard against her skin and I winced. But instead of slashing the skin, the blade snapped in two and clattered to the floor. Then I realized the extent of the “difficulties.”

  “She’s invulnerable,” I said.

  “Actually, the term they use is ‘nigh-invulnerable,’” he replied, “but I haven’t found a way to prove the nigh part yet.”

  “So you haven’t been able to do an autopsy.”

  “I’ve broken two dozen scalpels so far today on various parts of her body.”

  “What about laser knives?”

  “No effect. We even tried the concentrated lasers that rescue workers use to cut through wreckage.” He lifted her arm towards me to reveal a small dark smudge on her forearm. “That singed her slightly before it overloaded.”

  “So what do you do next?”

  “We’re borrowing a laser drill from a diamond mine in New Zimbabwe. I’m hoping that I can focus the beam tight enough to pierce her skin without cauterizing her insides. It should be here in about an hour. I also have a call in to a friend of mine who works with the Ministry of Space. I’ll find a way to crack this nut eventually.”

  “What can you tell us as of right now?” Tony asked.

  “I can tell you that she’s not breathing,” he said. “She has no heartbeat and all organ function and brain activity has stopped. Also her body temperature is now at seventy-three degrees.”

  “So you’re saying that she’s dead,” I said.

  “Yes, I’m fairly certain of that.”

  “You just have no idea how she died.”

  “I haven’t been able to check for any toxins in her system, if that’s what you mean,” he answered. “I haven’t been able to draw any blood and we’re even having a hard time getting saliva. We’ve done scans and I can tell you that all her organs are intact and, theoretically, in working order so she didn’t die from any physical attack. She also tested negative for any radioactivity so she wasn’t killed by radiation poisoning but, from what I understand, that was rather low on your list of possibilities.”

  “Yes, rather. What about her clothes?”

  “We gave them to CSI,” Shakes said. “They’re examining them now.”

  He re-covered Foraa with the sheet and killed the overhead lights.

  “I’m going to keep at it,” he said. “There are several avenues still to explore. I’ll let you know when I have news. As we say in the field, “once you know the how, you’re half way to the why.”

  “Thanks, doc,” Tony said.

  The three of us left the room together.

  Tony and I left Shakes at his computer researching the type of lasers currently used in earth’s defense system against rogue asteroids. (I was hoping that was more of a plan b kind of thing).

  “So it looks like we know less now than we did last night,” Tony said. “Not very encouraging.”

  “The wine thing still bothers me, Tony. How about letting Randy take a look at the samples.”

  “Absolutely not,” Tony said. “It would contaminate the evidence.”

  “If there’s no poison in it then technically the wine’s not evidence,” I said. “Randy’s certified to do the work. He’s done work for the government before.”

  “And charged very high rates for it, as I recall.”

  “He’ll do this one for free, as a favor for me. I promise. Look, he’s privately funded so you know that his equipment is more advanced than yours. And, no offense but he’s smarter than any of your people.”

  Tony stopped walking and guided me to the side of the hallway where he drew close to me.

  “If we do this, and I do mean ‘if,’” he said softly yet pointedly, “it’s off the record. I don’t want people thinking that the NFPD can�
��t handle the tough cases.”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  “My people transport the samples to his lab and monitor every aspect of the tests. The samples never leave their sight. No bait and switch.”

  “Tony, I’m hurt.”

  “Get used to it,” he said.

  “Agreed.”

  “Fine. I’ll arrange it. Let Randy know that we’ll be coming by this afternoon.”

  “Great, Tony. You won’t regret this.”

  “I regret it already,” he said, “but that’s par for the course.”

  Tony led me out of the main hallway and to the door. It wasn’t the most productive hour I’d ever spent but, as they say, any trip to the morgue that you can walk away from is a good one.

  15

  HARV and I hit the streets and headed back toward Ona’s mansion in my everyday ground-based vehicle, a 2047 Model-T2000 (or as HARV refers to it, “the Granny mobile”). I was feeling a little dispirited from the day’s events thus far so I was driving. Driving tends to make me feel better. I don’t get to do it much in this age of computer-controlled cars but I squeeze in the time when I can. HARV’s hologram appeared in the passenger seat beside me as we drove.

  “I’ve alerted Ms. Thompson’s computer that we’ll be arriving shortly.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m going to want to speak with the butler,

  Winterfresh…”

  “Wintercrescenhavenshivershamshawjamison.”

  “Whatever. The security people too. And we might as well check out the monkey while we’re there.”

  “Another normal day in the life of Zach Johnson,” HARV said.

  “Yeah, well, at least no one’s trying to kill us.”

  “The day is still young.”

  “I’m going to want to speak with Twoa and Threa again as well,” I said. “Separately, and today, if possible so I’m going to want all the information you have on them. Friends, enemies, sources of income, bad debts, odd habits…”

  “Odd habits? Boss, one’s a super hero and the other’s a fairy queen, define what you mean by odd.”

  “Use your judgment,” I said. “And by the way, I want you to be with me when we get to Ona’s house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to be present, display your hologram,” I said. “Use the wrist interface rather than the eye lens so we don’t look too cutting edge but I want everyone to know you’re there.”

  “Why’s that, boss?”

  “I want you to make friends with Ona’s computer.”

  “What?”

  “We need good relations with it, HARV,” I said. “It knows everything that goes on in that house and it hasn’t told us all of it yet. I want you to gain its trust.”

  “Boss, it’s a computer!”

  “So, clearly, it will feel comfortable confiding in you.”

  “You’re whoring me?”

  “I’m giving you a vitally important part to play in this investigation,” I said. “Now do you want it or not?”

  HARV folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll make friends with the computer.”

  “Thank you,” I said, with the hint of a smile. “You realize, of course that this means you’ll have to be civil while we’re there.”

  “I can be civil.”

  “I’m sure you can,” I said. “I’ve just never seen it.”

  We arrived at the secret entrance to Ona’s mansion by mid-morning. The desolate country road and skyway looked much less foreboding without the darkness and thunderstorms of the night before. Unfortunately, it also looked a lot less desolate.

  Two dozen pressbots crowded the area, interfaces chirping and microphones outstretched toward the clearly empty guardpost at the rock outcropping entrance.

  “Will you confirm for us that this is the entrance to Ona Thompson’s private residence?” one pressbot asked the guardpost.

  “Do you deny that Ms. Thompson’s residence is nearby?” asked another.

  “Can you confirm that you do not deny that you are employed by Ms. Thompson?” asked a third.

  A tiny bot slid around the large group and made its way toward the outcropping.

  “Excuse me, I have an urgent package for Ms. Thompson,” it said. “I’ll just go right in.”

  The guardpost responded with a blast from a hidden laser cannon that atomized the pressbot and there was an awkward nano of silence as the remaining press corps turned their interfaces first toward the smoldering remains of their compatriot and then back to the guardpost.

  “Can you confirm that Ms. Thompson is not accepting visitors today?”

  “Will you deny that she’s not giving interviews?”

  “Can you deny that you can’t confirm her schedule?”

  HARV and I watched the scene from the car.

  “It looks like news is out about Ona’s secret entrance,” I said. “Throw a disguise over the car so they don’t bother us.”

  “Already done,” HARV said. “We’re now a back-up mobile unit for Rapid News.”

  “And I think now would be a good time for you to start making friends with Ona’s computer and maybe find out if there’s a back door to this pyramid.”

  “Ziggurat.”

  “Whatever.”

  16

  HARV got through to Ona’s computer and we eventually made our way into the compound via the ultra-secret entrance, which ran through a subterranean crawlspace beneath the hillside. Once inside, with a little help from the computer, we found Ona in her private gym, working out with a set of anti-grav weights. She was dressed in a form fitting white workout suit and it worried me how awestruck I was at the sight of her. I felt my knees tremble and a wonderfully warm feeling sweep through my body, like a glass of brandy on a cool evening. I also found myself feeling honored that such a woman would have need of my services. Thankfully, HARV was beside me to set things right.

  “Keep it in your pants, boss,” he said. “The perspiration from her workout has suffused the entire room with pheromones. The gym has become one big Ona Thompson love-shack.

  “You have to admit, though” I said, “she does look good.”

  “Yes, I suppose she does,” HARV replied. “Although, being a computer, I’m not the best judge of these things. Perhaps I should get Dr. Gevada on the vid and ask her opinion.”

  That sort of brought me back to reality. I shook my head a bit to clear it and then took a few steps back from the doorway.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “I suspected as such,” HARV said with a smirk.

  I ignored him the best I could and shouted to Ona.

  “Excuse me, Ona. Sorry to interrupt. Do you have a couple nanos?”

  She turned toward me, the anti-grav weights still extended over her head, and smiled.

  “Hello Zach,” she said. “I was wondering how long you were going to stand in the doorway before saying something. Come in and have a seat.”

  “Actually, I’d rather you come out here,” I said. “That room is a little too full of your charm, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh yes, the pheromones,” she said. “Honestly, I’ll never understand you ordinary humans. Always thinking with your noses”

  “I think she’s aiming a little high,” HARV mumbled.

  I quieted HARV with a wave as Ona approached, toweling herself off as she walked. Her lithe muscles rippled beneath her clothes with every motion. She had a small anti-grav dumbbell in her hand and she twirled it unconsciously between her fingers like an old-time gangster playing with a coin. Even this simple gesture seemed hypnotic, almost sensual. I could only hope that I’d get used to it all in time.

  “A quick note of import,” HARV whispered as she approached. “She just finished bench-pressing the equivalent of five hundred twenty-three kilos, so try not to make her angry.”

  “Got it.”

  Ona joined us in the hall. She l
et the towel lay across one shoulder and grabbed a water bottle that seemed to appear out of the air. She smiled at me and glanced passingly at HARV.

  “I didn’t know you traveled with a hologram.”

  “This is HARV,” I said. “My computer assistant.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” HARV said, offering his hand.

  “I’m sure it is,” she replied. “But you’ll pardon me if I don’t shake your intangible hand.”

  “Of course, Ma’am. No offense taken.”

  Ona, finished with HARV, now turned to me. “I trust that you’ve seen the news today.” She said. “I am not happy.”

  “I’m not surprised. Any idea where the leak came from?”

  “My guess would be any of the simpletons posing as police investigators who traipsed through the mansion last night.”

  “It’s possible,” I replied. “Tony Rickey is checking into it now. He’s as angry about it as we are.”

  The twirling dumbbell froze in Ona’s hand as she gripped it firmly in her palm. Then she flicked her wrist with an amazing burst of speed and threw it like a missile back into the gym. It hit the far wall where its shell shattered and its electronic innards exploded in a display of blue and white sparks and flame.

  “I doubt that,” Ona said as she began walking menacingly down the long hallway.

  “So much for not making her angry?” HARV whispered.

  HARV and I watched as two small bots rushed into the gym and sprayed the flaming debris with foam. Then we cautiously followed Ona.

  “Okay. You’re probably a little angrier than the rest of us,” I said.

  “Don’t patronize me, Zach. Patronization makes me angry.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

  “How are you going to fix this?”

  “The media is going to do what they do. Between you, Tony and I, we’ll find the leak and shut it down,” I said. “But I assume that the primary task is still finding Foraa’s killer.”

  “And do you have a plan for that?”

  “Well, ‘plan’ might be too strong a word but there are some avenues of investigation that we need to explore. For one, I’d like to talk to your butler.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said. “I’ve already arranged the meeting. W will be serving you tea in the tertiary drawing room in ten minutes.”