The detective first ran it through Memu Bay's central criminal register. No matches were found. The police magistrate then authorized a suspension of privacy warrant, which allowed the opening of the town's medical records for a comprehensive search. Again, no matches were found. The detective then formally requested the Z-B legal officer to run a check against their personnel files. Having no grounds to refuse, and bound by Thallspring's laws, he agreed.
Although Z-B's AS could have run the search in seconds and relayed the results back to the group while they were still in the MFL, the detective and his partner, accompanied by the Z-B legal officer, took a car over to the block of hotels that Z-B was using as its barracks. The detective received a full procedural briefing from the magistrate through his bracelet pearl on the drive over. The police commissioner was absolutely determined that justice should not be blocked by some technicality thrown at them by a Z-B legal smartass.
It was 5:32 a.m. by the time all the relevant parties assembled in front of the barracks duty officer. He listened to the detective's request and came out with a formulaic "full cooperation" statement. The file of the suspect's DNA was handed over to an assistant and loaded into the barracks AS.
Seventeen seconds later, a perfect match was confirmed.
Ebrey Zhang had been sitting in his office since half-past-three, drinking bitter coffee and munching nervously on stale croissants. He'd been given briefings from a legal officer and the civil administration AS on where they stood on jurisdiction. He'd had an unpleasant interview with General Kolbe, bringing him up to speed. The only bright spot of the morning was that he hadn't yet received a call from Simon Roderick personally.
But then, as he kept telling himself, nothing was proven yet.
Two cameras covered the scene in the barracks for him. His optronic membrane scrolled the search results as they happened. When the positive result emerged his whole body tensed up as if he'd been struck. He threw his desktop pearl across me wide study as hard as he could. The casing broke when it hit the far wall. "FUCK!"
His aide tried to remain impassive. It wasn't easy. News was pouring into the datapool about the incident. Three reporters were already outside the barracks. Fortunately, it was still early, but it wouldn't be long before a crowd gathered. This was shaping up to be one long, evil day.
On the big sheet screen facing Zhang's desk, the detective was requesting custody of the suspect from the barracks duty officer.
"Sir?" the aide queried.
"Okay," Ebrey said in defeat. "Hand him over."
The aide instructed his personal AS, which relayed the message to the duty officer.
"Get me five platoons in Skin and on duty immediately," Ebrey Zhang said. "I want the police station where they're going to take him to be completely secure. Make that very clear to our dear commissioner, too; I don't care how many of his precious constables he has to take off other duties. There's to be no lynching."
"Yes, sir." He snapped out a quick list of instructions to his AS.
Ebrey watched the scene in the barracks. Everyone was remaining so unnaturally civil it was almost comical. But not with this crime, he told himself. Dear God, this oaf couldn't have hurt us harder if he was in collusion with KillBoy himself. Only then did he think about the girl, and shudder. Ebrey Zhang had a daughter of his own.
"Send someone round to her house," he told the aide. "Get that fucking collateral necklace off her."
"Yes, sir."
Hal stirred in discomfort when the ceiling light came on. There were a lot of excitable voices nearby. A hand shook his shoulder.
"Piss off," he mumbled. He was still half dreaming about Avril.
"On your feet, Private!"
He lifted his head. Sergeant Wagner was standing above the bed, his face hard and contemptuous. Captain Bryant stood just behind him, looking furious and possibly just a little bit scared. There were other people crowding into the hotel room, two of them in local police uniforms.
"Whaa— Sir." Hal pushed the quilt off and clambered to his feet. He didn't salute. He only had his shorts on; it would have looked ridiculous. His heart started hammering. Oh, shit, they found out that I broke curfew.
"Detective," Bryant said with a sharp nod at one of the policemen.
The detective came forward. "You are Halford Grabowski?"
"Er, yes, sir." He glanced at Wagner, hoping for some kind of support. The sergeant's stare was fierce.
"I am arresting you on suspicion of rape."
"Ung." Hal's jaw dropped in astonishment.
"In accordance with the Perlman declaration I am advising you to say nothing at this time. I am entitled to take you from this place to an officially sanctioned holding area, where you are to be questioned with your legal representative present. Please put some clothes on."
"You've got to be fucking joking. Sir?" He turned to the captain.
"Get dressed," Bryant ordered.
"I didn't do nothing. Not that!"
The detective produced a pair of handcuffs. "Come on, son, don't make it any worse."
"You can't do this!"
"Oh, yes, I can."
Hal turned to the captain, pleading. "Tell him."
"While you're here, you are operating under local civil law, Grabowski. We made that quite clear during your briefing. Now put some damn clothes on, or you'll be taken to the station as you are."
Sergeant Wagner held up a pair of trousers. Hal managed a dazed laugh and took them from him.
"I want this room sealed," the detective was telling Captain Bryant. "Our forensic team will need to examine it later."
"I understand. Nobody will come in here."
It wasn't real, Hal was telling himself, none of this was real.
Lawrence Newton came into the room, dressed in a short gray toweling robe. He raked at his disheveled hair as he yawned widely.
"Sarge," Hal yelled. "For Christ's sake, help me."
Bryant held up a warning finger. "You are not active in this case, Newton. When an arrest is being made, nobody from the suspect's platoon is to be involved. Standard procedure. Now get out."
Lawrence gave the captain a reasonable nod, as if the facts were obvious. He turned to the detective. "I'm the kid's NCO. What's the charge?"
"Newton!" Bryant stormed.
"We're taking him for questioning concerning an alleged rape."
"Really. When was it supposed to have taken place?" Lawrence asked.
"Early this morning."
"Okay." Lawrence looked directly at the frantic kid. "Did you do it?"
"Be quiet," Bryant demanded. "Grabowski, I'm ordering you not to reply."
"I didn't, Sarge. Not that. For fuck's sake, you gotta believe me."
Lawrence studied his face for a moment. "I do."
"Oh, thank you, Jesus."
"Hal, finish dressing," Lawrence told him. "Then you'll have to go with the police."
"Sarge!"
"Do it. We'll get a lawyer sorted out for you at this end. Clear this crap up quickly. Meantime, you do as you're told. Understand?"
"Yes, Sarge."
Hal finished dressing and reluctantly let the detective cuff his hands. As he was led away down the corridor all his platoonmates were waiting outside their doors. They shouted encouragement, slapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, told him they'd be on his case right away, no worries. He even managed a few sheepish grins. The last thing he heard as the elevator doors shut on him and his escort was Captain Bryant hissing furiously: "My office, Newton. Five minutes."
There was an angry crowd outside the police station. Hal could hear them from his cell. The chanting. The shouting.
Everyone had been polite to him since they arrived. It was an act, though, he could tell that much. A Z-B lieutenant had ridden with him in the police car, introducing himself as Lannon Bralow.
"I've been assigned as your legal representative," he told Hal.
"You mean you're my lawyer?"
"Yes."
Hal relaxed slightly.
After they got to the station, Hal was shown into a medical examination room and told to take his clothes off. They were put in a polyethylene bag and taken away. Then a doctor arrived and wanted to take samples. Lannon Bralow told him it was okay, and to cooperate. So Hal lay down on the couch and let the doc prod and poke. He only kicked up when the guy started to examine his dick. His dick, for Christ's sake! But Bralow was there and kept saying how it was okay, and everyone needed it done. Hal let it happen, but made the lawyer promise he wouldn't tell anyone else from 435NK9. Jesus, he'd never live that down.
Once it was over, the police gave him a one-piece overall to wear and took him down to the cells. What seemed like hours later, Lieutenant Bralow came in to see him.
"So, like, where are we?" Hal asked. He was a little pissed the sarge hadn't come.
"They're about ready to interview you."
"For what? I didn't do anything."
Bralow forced a smile. "Hal, the girl that's making the allegations ... They found traces of you inside her. I was there when they took the samples. Our own AS identified your DNA."
"It's wrong. I never raped no one. I ain't no fucking animal."
"Hal, we've been running our own inquiry at the barracks.
We know you broke the curfew last night Morkson told us all about the backyard and the motion sensor."
"Shit!" Hal groaned. Goddamned Morkson. What an asshole.
"Hal, now listen, you have to be level with me on this one. Half of Memu Bay is outside howling for your blood. The asset factories are on strike. There's a barricade outside the airport gate so our cargo trucks can't get through. The platoons are being attacked in the streets; we've had to use darts nine times already today, and it's not even noon yet. What the hell happened last night?"
"I went to a goddamn whorehouse. Okay? I mean, Jesus, it's been months since I got me some pussy. I was, like, on fire. And this curfew..."
"Right." Bralow sounded relieved. He opened up his desktop pearl. "Start at the beginning."
The room they interviewed him in was a large office with a big wooden desk and leather swivel chairs. Hal knew for sure this wasn't the usual place for interrogating prisoners. But then there were more people than he was expecting sitting in chairs waiting for him.
The detective, Gordon Galliani, was sitting beside a lawyer he introduced as Heather Fernandes, who he said was representing the victim's family. Two other men were sitting at the back of the room, one in a smart police uniform. Hal had been around long enough to recognize a senior officer when he saw one. The other wore an expensive, conservative suit. His eyes were puffy and red, as if he'd been crying. He was looking everywhere around the room except at Hal.
Lieutenant Bralow sat beside Hal. Captain Bryant was there as well. Which Hal could have done without. He wanted the sarge, or even some of the guys from the platoon. At least Bryant seemed to have calmed down since the morning. He even said a brief hello.
Hal sat down opposite the detective. There were a couple of desktop panes in front of him, each with a holographic pane unfolded and running a test pattern.
"Mr. Grabowski, we're here to try to establish exactly what happened last night," Galliani said with a friendly smile. "This interview is being recorded and can be submitted as evidence in any possible trial. Now, as you know, a very serious allegation has been made against you."
Hal leaned forward on the desk, his hands opening to the detective. "I never raped anyone, okay? I'm telling you the truth, here. And I can prove it."
"Really?" Galliani was momentarily thrown. "How do you intend to do that? We have gathered a lot of evidence that incriminates you."
"Look, I jumped the barracks curfew, okay? I admit that. But, shit, I didn't rape no girl. I went to a whorehouse to get laid. I paid for it, fair and square. Cost me a goddamn packet, too."
"You're saying you visited a brothel?"
"Yeah."
"What brothel? Where is it?"
Hal flinched. "I'm not sure. This taxi took me there. The driver knew it. It's only a few minutes' drive from the barracks."
Galliani waited in silence for a moment. "That's it?" he asked eventually. "That's your proof?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sure if you were to pursue this alibi you would soon establish its validity," Bralow said smoothly. "My client is trying to cooperate."
Galliani sat back and smiled at Hal. "Son, you've had three hours and full access to a smartass lawyer. This bullshit is the best you can come up with?"
"It's not bullshit," Hal said hotly. "I went to a brothel. It was a big smart house, they all were down that street; there was a little garden along the front with iron railings. I don't know the number, but I'll know it again when I see it."
"What time did you leave your barracks?" Galliani asked.
"Twelve minutes past eleven."
"And when did you return?"
"Twelve past two. That's when the sensor was inactive, see? Twelve minutes past every hour."
"If you don't know where this brothel is, how did you get back to your barracks?"
"The madam called a taxi for me. I got back to the barracks about quarter to two. I had to hang around and wait before I could actually get in."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No, man, I wasn't supposed to be there. I hung around in the alley; I guess there weren't even many people on the street that time of morning. But the taxi driver can vouch for me."
"Was it the same driver who took you to the brothel?"
"Yeah."
"I don't suppose you know his name, or even which taxi company this was?"
Hal shrugged awkwardly. "No. But I think he was using AS control when we left. You'll be able to trace him through the traffic regulator logs."
"We'll certainly check."
"And so will we," Bralow murmured. He met the detective's gaze levelly.
"So," Galliani said. "We've established you were out on the streets at the same time this alleged rape took place, and that no one can actually confirm exactly where you were."
"The taxi driver can, the madam can, Avril sure as shit can—" Hal was checking them off on his fingers.
"Avril?"
"The whore I spent half the night screwing. There were a couple of other whores I saw there, as well. Don't know their names, though."
"But you'll recognize them when you see them?"
"Yeah, no problem."
"So all we have to do is find this taxi, and the brothel, and you're in the clear?"
"Yeah." Hal smiled happily. "Yeah, you got it, man."
"So how do you explain your semen being found inside the victim's vagina?"
Hal's smile dried up. "I don't know. It's a sting. A frame-up. It can't be anything else."
"And the girl's story? That you attacked her in Sheridan Park? That you threatened to set off her collateral necklace if she didn't do what you wanted?"
"Hey, that's your bullshit, man. None of that crap happened. None of it. I wasn't in Sheridan Park. She's lying. She's a part of all this."
"All this? So it's a conspiracy, then?"
Hal glanced at Bralow.
"Zantiu-Braun personnel would be the obvious victims of any rogue criminal elements in Memu Bay," the lieutenant said. "And we both know there are some."
"You've been having a tough time from our hooligan element," Galliani said. "But there's no organized resistance group, is there?"
Captain Bryant cleared his throat. "No. There is no organized resistance group in Memu Bay."
Hal twisted around in his seat to stare at the captain. "You've gotta be jerking me off. You were at the fucking soccer match, for Christ's sake. You saw Graham Chapell get blown to shit by KillBoy's bastards. You saw that!"
"We're still investigating the soccer game incident," Bryant said to Galliani. "We're not yet sure what happened."
"Jesus fucking wept."
"So there may or may not be someone, o
r some group of people, capable of setting you up for rape," Galliani said.
"Damn betcha there is," Hal told him. "It's that bastard KillBoy you should be looking for. Not me."
"Which means the rape victim must be part of the conspiracy?"
"You bet. You call her in here and give her the third degree. She'll crack."
Fallen Fragon Page 49
