“Well, I mean, I’ve seen some death in my line of work. Not as much as you, I’m sure.”
“Really?” he said, ignoring her subtle attempt to turn it back to him. “Where?”
Amaru took another sip from her cup. He had her in a sensitive spot. He would have to tread carefully to make sure she didn’t close up.
“A few places,” she answered. “Miners dying on the job. People getting exposed to sudden bursts of volatiles or bacterial strains.”
“Really?” he said again. “I wasn’t aware that happened out here, at least not anymore.”
She frowned at him. “You’d be surprised by some of the conditions on the Outer World mines, Ward. And it’s not only Callisto or Titan, or Ganymede for that matter. It’s literally anywhere major resource operations are happening. The risk of exposure is great, especially where surveying has been sloppy or rushed.”
Ward resisted the urge to smile. There was the rebellious streak he had noted from before. It wasn’t gone, merely carefully hidden behind her somewhat prickly and professional demeanor. But she was no longer comfortable being questioned, so he decided to switch gears.
“I know a thing or two about that,” he said. “Mining ice is different than mining the Rock, but it sounds like the hazards are the same.”
Amaru hummed again, this time with interest. “Oh, so you were on Mercury, then?”
Ward noted the way she inflected the question. “That’s right. You heard I was a convict laborer, I take it?”
“I did. Just wasn’t sure where. Emile was a bit scant on the details.”
Ward felt a tinge of embarrassment. It seemed perfectly rational her boss would inform her of exactly who she’d be working with, but it was hardly something Ward was proud of.
“I have heard things,” she said. “Some of the miners who came to Burr had stories about ‘rock crawling.’ Is that what they call it there?”
Ward shook his head. “Any number of names for it. Most days, we just called it ‘an excuse to get out of our cells’.”
She smiled, cradling her face in one hand. “Were you ever afraid of being incinerated?”
“No, not so much. Odds of burning up were about as good as dying of decompression or freezing to death. Mostly I feared going crazy of boredom.”
Amaru laughed, but a sympathetic and gentle one. “Then I guess you understand what it’s like for many people out here better than I thought.”
Ward smiled, realizing he had forgotten he was recording everything they were saying. He had also forgotten the entire point was to question her and get some more details, not to share stories about his own life. Yet strangely, he didn’t seem to care. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was having an actual conversation. The last time that had been the case, he’d still had a neural spike in his head.
Ward cleared his throat, trying to get back to the subject at hand. He looked around the dining hall, feigning sudden realization.
“This hotel, it’s where you and Doctor Lee were staying, isn’t it?”
Amaru’s smile disappeared and her businesslike veneer returned. She also removed the supporting hand from her face, placing it beneath the table. “Yes, yes it was. We usually stayed here, or someplace close to it. Easy commute to the line which will take us to the extraction sites.”
“Yes, I’m hoping we might check those out too while we’re here,” he said casually. “Which room was he in?”
“I’m not sure I recall,” she said, caught off guard by the question. “Will you be asking permission to search that too?”
“Yes, it’s one of the places I’ll need to inspect. Along with the crime scene and any other location he visited while here.”
Amaru looked suddenly nervous. “Does that mean . . .”
“Yes,” Ward replied, completing her sentence for her. “I’ll be going to Cassini. I have a feeling there are some stones there needing to be looked under.”
Amaru took a drink from her cup, no doubt to hide her growing expression of disquiet. Ward resumed eating from his plate, also with the intent of hiding his reaction. He felt a tinge of satisfaction wash over him. Amaru was back on the defensive, right where he needed her to be.
Twenty-Four
The Gendarmerie had changed since the last time he had seen it. Additional columns, new sections opened, more facilities or expansions on existing ones. The architecture, however, was still typical of Huygens. Functional, Spartan, harshly utilitarian. Every surface was composed of the same russet–colored metal beams and transparent panels. The officers occupying the foyer were similarly non-ornate, simple uniforms and a disposition all business.
As for those who weren’t officers, they were a different sort. The people of Titan were known for being of a kind. Regardless of where they had come from, the harsh cold of Titan and its reputation for being the new frontier had a way of stripping people down to their essentials. Still, he discerned certain Retro elements from those who were here to register complaints or report crimes, or those who were being booked for having committed them. All were flesh and bone, their machinery on the outside, and their clothing little more than synthetic fibers.
Ward looked next at the man standing before him, noting the cut of his black uniform and silver insignia. The former was neat and proper, the latter polished and shining. The man wearing it had cold grey eyes and a face entirely rectilinear. Even if he hadn’t familiarized himself with the Gendarmerie and its staff ahead of time, there would be no mistaking his seniority.
Ward extended his hand and issued an introduction. “Jeremiah Ward.”
“Assistant Director Boyagan,” the man replied. “Huygens Gendarmerie.”
Ward nodded. The formal greeting conveyed more than its fair share of contempt. Clearly, the Gendarmerie wasn’t pleased with this arrangement. And as the second in command, it fell to Boyagan to escort a “high profile” guest around.
“I believe you already know Doctor Amaru?” Amaru reached past him to shake the AD’s hand. His granite face cracked momentarily to issue what appeared to be a sincere smile.
“Hello, Doctor. Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“The work continues,” she said. “And I have every desire to see this matter be put to rest.”
“As do we,” Boyagan said, looking back at Ward. “I’ve been instructed to provide you with the latest information from our investigation. I’m afraid there’s not much more to go on. If you’ll follow me.”
He waved an arm towards a hallway leading away from the front foyer. Ward began to follow, issuing a similar invitation to Amaru. A few minutes later, they had left the hallway and its less than colorful complement of locals behind.
Soon, they found themselves in an all but deserted corridor, passing only the occasional officer. Every time they did, the person kept their head down and proceeded past them. Their procession felt almost funereal, which reminded Ward to ask: “I take it there’s been no success in retrieving a body?”
“No. I wish there had been,” said Boyagan. “Then we might have some idea of what happened to him, instead of the dead ends we’ve been chasing all this time.”
Ward glanced briefly at Amaru in confusion, before returning his attention to Boyagan. “What do you mean, the dead ends?”
Boyagan looked over his shoulder, frowning at Amaru. “Doctor, did you not brief our friend here on the status of the investigation?”
“We’ve discussed it a few times. I’m going to need an explanation too.”
“Well, Doctor, I regret to inform you the situation hasn’t improved since last we spoke. The site has been pored over many times since the incident. And the forensics came back negative each time.”
Ward sighed and crossed his arms. “You mean your teams didn’t find a single thing? No hair, prints, DNA or anything else pointing to a suspect? I find that hard to believe in such a high-traffic area.”
“On the contrary,” Boyagan replied bitterly. “We found countless pr
ints, fibers, and DNA samples. The issue was separating the maelstrom of data to determine which belonged to the perpetrators. For that to be possible, we would need some kind of imaging or sensor data to go on. But as it turns out, the perps left us with neither.”
Again, Ward was forced to look at Amaru. This time, she simply shrugged before speaking.
“What do you mean? You never said anything about a lack of sensor data before.”
“You left before we pulled all the surveillance data, Doctor. We had barely finished questioning you when you left.”
“Is that a fact?” Ward said. He didn’t look directly at Amaru this time, though she loomed rather large in his peripheral vision.
“Relax, Ward. Her friend and colleague had disappeared. And your associates were concerned for her safety.”
“Emile ordered you to leave Titan?” he said in Amaru’s direction.
“It wasn’t exactly an order. Once the Gendarmerie was finished with their questions, he was quite insistent I come home. And there was still plenty of work to be done.”
Boyagan cleared his throat. “In here.”
He pointed to a door up at their right. Reaching the door, he presented his ID to a small sensor panel. There was a chime, followed by the door clicking and opening inward. The lights came flickering to life as Boyagan stepped through, outlining the various pieces of heavy machinery filling the room.
The size and shape of things were soon revealed. In the center of the room was a large table, a holographic projector built into one end. Various consoles and terminals were laid out across the top, with enough room behind it for two people to stand side by side. Boyagan moved to the side closest to the projector and began running his hands over the console there. The entire table powered up and began to hum gently.
Ward slowly walked around the edge of the desk and took a spot close behind him. Amaru followed, mirroring him.
Boyagan finished what he was doing, striking the last few keys on the console significantly. “The surveillance footage,” he said gravely. “Pay close attention for any anomalies.”
“Anomalies?” Ward echoed, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“You’ll see.”
Automatically, the lights in the room began to dim as the projector cued up. A small circle of light formed in the middle of the air before them, then expanded to show a three-dimensional image of a platform. The resolution wasn’t bad, offering barely enough detail that it was instantly clear they were looking at a Titan transit hub.
On either side of the image, there were raised platforms. In the center, several transparent tubes ran diagonally from one end of the image to the other. Here and there were columns of the same girded metal, the same russet color. The only things that stood out from the monochromatic setting were the signs indicating the stop in the network.
3G, it said, on several bright panels lining the walls and the exterior of the tubes.
“This is the footage from the night in question,” Boyagan said by way of explanation. “We constructed a mosaic using all the data gathered from the stop. What you’re about to see covers the period of twenty-two hundred to zero-zero-fifteen hours, local time, on the day Lee went missing.”
The screen became animated, the time index in the upper right corner beginning to move forward. At first, things moved ahead quickly, with passengers coming and going from the platform seemingly in fast motion. Several crowds converged and dispersed, eventually thinning down as the time index got closer and closer to midnight.
Eventually, there were virtually no passengers coming and going from the transit line. Boyagan entered new commands on his console and jumped in.
“Here’s where things get interesting,” he said. “Doctor Lee was one of the last people to enter this stop that evening.”
A few more figures moved in and out of the area before Doctor Lee showed up. His profile was outlined with bright yellow margins. He seemed to be moving through water, as the footage slowed down to half speed.
Ward moved closer to the display. Lee’s movements were now a matter of record to him. His gait, his demeanor, the way he was holding himself: every single motion and mannerism would tell him something he needed to know.
And it did. He was moving with obvious purpose, Ward saw. Intent on getting where he was going, a mixture of excitement and vigor visible in the way he walked. Naturally, he was worried about being seen. One glance at his evening clothes – a full coat, a fedora and a neck scarf – indicated he was trying to conceal his appearance, with no subtlety.
Not exactly helpful information. Anyone sneaking out of their hotel in the night to go to a pleasure district would be exhibiting these signs. Ward noted the absence of one telltale signature, and it told him more than anything that was clear and present in Lee’s movements.
Guilt. There was no trace of it in the way he moved. Sure, he was concerned about being seen and identified, but the way he carried himself showed no sign of a sense of shame. His excitement was clean, earnest, like he was concealing a secret he would be happy to share with others if he could.
This wasn’t a man sneaking off to get anonymous sex. This man was meeting with someone he knew and loved.
“Here it is,” said Boyagan. “Brace yourself.”
In an instant, Doctor Lee’s figure bent in half. There was no apparent reason for it. One second, he was stepping to the edge of the platform and preparing to board a shuttle car sitting there idly. The next, he was keeling over and emitting a muffled cry.
He lay motionless for what seemed like a few seconds, though the video was moving in slow motion still. Then, one of his arms appeared to raise itself, then the other. A small space was visible beneath his legs.
The impossible happened next as Doctor Lee’s limp body began to hover a few centimeters off the ground and move down the length of the platform. His arms and legs were stretched taut, four stressed points keeping him aloft. It seemed obvious what was happening, but this only drove home the impossibility of it all.
The recording stopped as soon as Lee’s body was out of frame. A few seconds passed before anyone said a thing.
“Stealth fields,” Ward whispered. “The perps had fucking stealth fields.”
“So it would seem,” Boyagan replied, rewinding the recording. “And not exactly the black-market variety, either.”
Boyagan made some more keystrokes, and the video began to change color. It wasn’t long before Ward and Amaru saw what he was talking about. In the holographic image, the background features remained the same. But on the platform, surrounding Lee’s incapacitated body, four mottled ghostly shapes became visible.
They looked like Fresnel lenses, their centers relatively transparent, but their edges warped and layered, invisible in visible light, and barely detectable in other wavelengths.
“Well, I’ll be.” muttered Ward.
“What you’re seeing is everything the cameras caught in terms of non-visible light,” said Boyagan. “X-ray, ultraviolet, infrared. The perps are only visible as an absence, but there they are. The fields they had were state of the art, capable of bending every spectrum around them to avoid detection. We had to layer the wavelengths on top of each other just to see some outlines.”
Ward placed his hand to his forehead, wiped a small bead of sweat forming there. What had seemed strange and cagy before now seemed rather threatening. Whoever had abducted Lee clearly had significant resources.
“So, we’re talking military-grade here. Not simple cloaks or jammers,” Ward concluded. “Who the hell has access to that kind of hardware on Titan?”
“Who could afford it, for that matter?” Amaru added.
Boyagan crossed his arms, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, I suppose we might. But there isn’t exactly room in our budget for military-grade equipment like that. However, it pretty much rules out petty criminals or human traffickers.”
A terrible name popped into Ward’s head. He knew Xaver’s operation intimately, or at
least he had. Boyagan had a point. No matter how much wealth the Martian syndicate and its various counterparts in the Outer Worlds had access to, they weren’t in a position to get their hands on this kind of technology.
His mind went to Adler next, and the rather impressive military hardware he had witnessed the mercenary and his associates loading onto their vessel. Advanced weapons, powered suits, and armor; what were the odds they hadn’t packed some cloaks too? Then there was the vessel itself, which Adler had freely admitted was outfitted with the latest in stealth technology. He certainly didn’t think Adler was incapable of kidnapping. That begged the question, though: what possible motive might the Chandrasekhars have to disappear one of their own?
“Shit,” Ward muttered. There really was no other way to summarize it.
“You’ll be interested to know we investigated all possible leads while Doctor Amaru was away. So far, nothing has turned up connecting any of the local players to this incident.”
It was Boyagan saying this, and it sounded like he was trying to get Ward’s attention. He brought his attention back to the Assistant Director, who was looking a little impatient.
“I’m sorry, did you say, ‘local players’?”
“Yes.” Boyagan sounded angry. “We made it a point to look into any of the local politicos and syndicates who could possibly afford this kind of stealth tech. Not to mention any of those who might possibly have a motive.”
“And nothing?”
“No, nothing to connect them to this colleague of yours.”
Boyagan sounded more than angry. He sounded bitter. Which, given their current situation, was understandable. A considerable amount of time had passed since Doctor Lee’s disappearance, and no new leads had emerged. As such, the Gendarmerie had shelved the case until the arrival of an off-world investigator had forced them to re-open it. To Boyagan, being required to explain all this to an off-worlder, and an Extro to boot, was a little insulting.
“Who are we talking about, exactly?”
The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1) Page 22
