The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1)

by Matthew Williams

  “There’s something missing here, and it has to be down there. Your people looked at this case and all the evidence nine ways from Sunday, but found nothing. And it wasn’t because you didn’t do your jobs. These perps were well-equipped and well-prepared, and that’s why they succeeded. But they’ve stayed hidden up until now for another reason. It’s because they knew something no one else knew.”

  Boyagan drew in a deep breath. One look at Ward told him the man wasn’t going to be talked out of this action. And since the Assistant Director wasn’t about to waste his time getting any more involved in an old missing persons case, there wasn’t much else he could do.

  “All right, fine,” he said. “Just for the love of God, be careful.”

  Ward was a little taken aback by the invocation, being so unused to it. But he did appreciate the sentiment, and smiled.

  “Thanks. I’m not entirely unequipped.”

  “So I heard.” Boyagan tapped at his chest, indicating Ward’s body armor. Ward had forgotten he had been wearing it since his arrival. Once he swung by his room again, he would also be armed. That was something the AD didn’t need to know about.

  #

  Ward retrieved the Rutger and some magazines from his travel satchel. Checking the terminal in his room, he downloaded Boyagan’s forwarded colony schematics to his neural loom. This took far longer than anything else, as both the interface and the file itself were in a format his neural hardware found rather archaic.

  With the download complete, he left his room in search for Amaru. He found her in the dining lounge, looking over something on her Folio. There was an air of impatience about her, and it quickly turned to annoyance the moment she saw him. He suspected she had been waiting for him to show up.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, putting the Folio down. “I haven’t heard from you since you went off yesterday.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I was going to the Yellow Light District, figured you would be better off staying here.”

  Ward moved next to her table, choosing not to sit down. This caught her attention.

  “And where are you going now?”

  “There’s another lead I need to check out. Might be dangerous.”

  She frowned, taking his word to mean she wasn’t invited to come along on this venture either. That seemed to cut it for her and she stood up.

  “Mr. Ward. There is a reason Emile assigned me to you. Not only do I know my way around these haunts better than you, but Doctor Lee and I knew each other well. Not only am I useful to you, I have a much greater interest in finding out what the hell happened to him. So, if you think you can keep me out of this, you are dead fucking wrong!”

  Ward was a little taken aback by her outburst. He hadn’t heard salty talk like this since leaving Prokofiev, and her level of anger was unexpected. He had anticipated she would be annoyed with him for keeping her out of the loop, but this went way beyond that. In a way, he felt like he had seen more from her in the last few seconds than he had during their entire introduction – back when he had carefully measured her responses to create her personality profile.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Iswolski had once told him the fastest way to get the measure of a person was to get them mad at you. For the first time, he felt like Amaru was being honest with him.

  “Perhaps I deserve that, Doctor. You certainly do have a bigger stake in this than I do. But that can complicate things. And there are some places I need to peek which –” He wasn’t sure how best to describe it to her. “I’m simply the hired help, here. You’re someone the Chandrasekhars need to make it back in one piece.”

  “Don’t try to protect me, Ward,” she replied. “I can take care of myself, I won’t be sidelined, and I won’t let someone else decide my level of involvement.”

  Ward stiffened. An impasse. He wasn’t willing to involve her and she wasn’t willing to be sidelined. There was no wiggle room on this decision for Ward. Perhaps he could find some on her side. He was sure he would find it if he offered her some small concessions.

  “All right,” he said. “Last night I went to the Yellow Light District, without you, because I needed to meet with Finch.”

  “Finch?” The name sounded like a knife scraping against metal, coming from her mouth. “The nationalist leader? You met with her?”

  “Yes. And before you ask why, it was to find out if she knew anything that could help.”

  “Really?” Amaru put her hands to her hips. Her face went from angry to tickled. “And you thought she’d volunteer that information?”

  “No,” said Ward. “Things can be gleaned from denials and lies, too.”

  “And? What did you glean from talking to her?”

  “That she wasn’t involved, but she might have some idea who may have been.”

  Amaru flinched ever so slightly. Was that fear he saw? or something else? It didn’t matter, because it didn’t last long. She went right back to anger in a heartbeat.

  “Did she say who?”

  “Of course not. Like you said, she wasn’t about to volunteer that kind of information.”

  “So then what?”

  Ward ran his hands down the length of his overcoat, his left hand grazing the edge of the Rutger beneath it. “And then I pretty much said goodnight and left.”

  “Wha – you walked away? Why didn’t you probe deeper?”

  “Because I had nothing to leverage,” Ward said firmly. “The moment we got to the subject of why Lee would be abducted, I ran out of cards to play. She knew it too. She knows he has something on him others would like to get their hands on. And she knows this is the reason why I’m here in the first place.”

  Amaru began to repeat his words and then stopped short, the reaction of anyone who couldn’t believe what they were hearing. More angry words followed.

  “You’re telling me Emile’s only interested in getting back what’s in Lee’s head? He’s got no interest in determining if he’s even alive or dead, or what happened to him?”

  “Of course he does,” Ward said, not sure if he was lying or telling the truth. “But as far as someone like Finch is concerned, the only reason Emile would send a private investigator to find one of their colleagues is because they’re a loose end. Her kind doesn’t exactly think you and your people are overburdened with a sense of humanity.”

  Amaru drew back a little. Implying she and the Chandrasekhars were on the same team seemed rather offensive to her. She was furious, and wasn’t entirely sure who with – Ward, Emile or Finch. She pushed past it and went back to interrogating him. “So that’s it? That’s all you’ve been doing since we spoke last? Confronting her and not getting anything other than a vague idea she knows something?”

  “No,” Ward said, honestly. “I may have also gone back to the station where Doctor Lee was grabbed. I also had to check in with the Gendarmerie to do some follow-up.”

  Amaru waited for more. When it didn’t come, she raised her hands, palms facing up. “That’s it? What is it you’re not telling me, Ward?”

  The displays in Ward’s field of view began to notify him of some sudden changes. His blood pressure was rising, and a sudden increase of norepinephrine was detected in his endocrine system. He didn’t need to be told. He had been alive long enough to recognize the onset of sudden anger. It seemed odd he would react this way now. But for whatever reason, Amaru’s persistent demand for answers seemed more than a little disingenuous.

  “Doctor, if you want me to keep you in the loop, you might consider sharing some information yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you know a great deal more than you’ve been letting on. You and Doctor Lee were doing a lot more than simply investigating Outer Worlds for resource contracts. I don’t for a second believe he chose Callisto and Titan because he thought the authorities were particularly cooperative.”

  Amaru did a good job of hiding her reactions, most of the time. Now was not one
of those times. She did her best to maintain her steely expression. But Ward saw it in her eyes. The muscles around them relaxed, and her pupils dilated noticeably.

  “The only question is, how much did you know, Doctor? Were you merely the consultant, or did Lee actually share any of this with you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ward hesitated. As with Finch, there seemed to be wisdom in saying too little rather than too much. Unlike his confrontation with Finch though, there didn’t seem to be any real risk in revealing all he knew. There was really no reason to be secretive anymore, and he was getting rather tired of all the cloak and dagger shit.

  “Callisto and Titan,” he said. “As far as Lee believed, these are the closest analogues for Venus and Mars, at least when it comes to testing crucial terraforming techniques. In his university thesis, he openly stated he believed a historical mistake could be avoided if the Formists found a way to procure these moons and begin engineering their environments. And now, all these years later, he stops at both, as part of a mission to begin a program of ecological transformation on Mars. You expect me to believe this is coincidence?

  “And speaking of things I’m meant to believe; do you honestly think I buy that you and he were running such rigorous tests on the ice and methane samples you were pulling because you were worried about contamination? No, you were running those scans for something else. The only questions are what, and why?”

  Amaru’s face began to mirror her eyes. She was flashing him a smile now, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was one of defiance or pleasure. Her next question suggested the former. She sounded genuinely unimpressed. “You read Lee’s thesis?”

  “I did,” Ward replied. “It made for some interesting reading.”

  “And you think you’ve stumbled onto a veiled agenda because of it? It hasn’t occurred to you maybe his views changed over the past few decades?”

  Ward smirked. “People don’t change that much, Doctor. In my experience, they don’t change at all, unless things happen to them. Lee’s life was nothing stellar. It was a straight line, and I get the feeling it was getting close to culmination. A man who’s dedicated his entire life to seeing Mars turn green, like Pinter and Emile. I think he was getting close, and was only out here to make sure the groundwork was being laid.”

  Amaru’s eyes became downcast. She didn’t seem particularly defiant now, but he was no closer to breaking her. Perhaps he needed to get a little more personal.

  “The only thing I haven’t been able to figure out is where you fit into all of this, Doctor. You’re not the type to get involved in schemes like this. You’ve been a rebel and the kind of person who sympathizes with the underdog all your life. You were running those tests for Lee, for Emile. What did you think they were up to?”

  She looked back at him now. Her eyes had turned mournful now, and her body language was certainly consistent. Her arms remained crossed, but they seemed to hug her tighter now. At last, he got something definitive from her – guilt.

  “Did you even know?” Ward asked softly.

  Amaru looked at his chest, noted the bulge behind his coat. Her expression turned hard again. “Where are you going, Ward, that you suddenly feel the need to be armed?”

  She reached out and touched the Rutger. His biomonitors began to signal him again. So close to a break, and she had managed to deflect him. If he tried to press her now, she would retreat or issue denials. He thought back to his confrontation with Finch, how she had turned the tables on him the moment when he was closest to getting something of value from her.

  That was when it hit him. A realization so profound it immediately felt obvious. Painfully so. It also gave him an idea.

  “I . . . I was thinking about going back to the Yellow Light District. Like you said, I didn’t get much from Finch last time. I think this time around, she might be more receptive.”

  A trace of Amaru’s old anger returned. “Why? What’s changed since last night?”

  Ward wasn’t sure how to explain, not without giving himself away. “I think Finch just needs the proper incentive. I think I know what to offer her.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Ward had been wrong before. Contrary to what he had thought, it could be hard to find someone like Finch on Titan. All you had to do was find her once, and you had a much harder time finding her again. The Bistro wasn’t her choice of haunts tonight, and there were no shortages of eateries, watering holes, or pleasure dens in the dome.

  Without the benefit of a Level IV sentience keeping tabs on the colony’s population, or even a bloody Level III for that matter, he couldn’t access the system and ask for her geolocation. Under the circumstances, finding her involved some painfully old-fashioned snooping, the kind men in his profession hadn’t done in generations.

  In short, he had to go through a middleperson.

  “You’ve reached the offices of the Centimanes, Titan’s only true representatives,” said the young woman at the other end of the line. Ward tried not to scoff. “How may I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Jaida Finch,” said Ward.

  “I’m afraid she’s not available,” responded the woman, without hesitation.

  “I’m aware of that. I need to get a message to her immediately.”

  “Very well. May I ask what it is about?”

  Ward paused long enough to let the girl know how serious his next words were.

  “Please tell Ms. Finch that Mr. Jeremiah Ward has something she dearly wants. Something which may change the balance of power in this end of the System. Something the Chandrasekhar clan would dearly like to keep out of her hands.” He made another brief pause. “Did you get all that?”

  “I – ah, yes. I did. Um –”

  “Good, because I need you to convey it to her verbatim. As soon as possible. I know she’ll want to speak to me as soon as she hears it.”

  “Does she have your contact info?”

  “No, use this comlink line,” Ward said. “I’m sending it in case it’s not visible to you right now.”

  He issued the command to transmit the proper frequency and address. The woman went back to making awkward conversation as soon it came through.

  “Ah, all right, very well, sir. I’ll pass it along –”

  Ward didn’t wait for her to finish. As expected, it didn’t take long for Finch to take an interest. It took all of ten minutes before he received a simple text message from her – just a few words devoid of pretense or pleasantries.

  Mabaharia Sangara. One hour. Come alone.

  Ward smiled. The leader of Titan’s “only true representatives” had nibbled at the bait. Now he simply had to make sure she took it. Whether she did or not would decide how the rest of his day would go. It probably would also determine whether or not he’d be leaving Titan empty-handed.

  #

  Mabaharia Sangara, read the sign, rendered in Anglish, Franz, Chin, Deustch and some other scripts beneath it. Ward’s overlay came up and automatically translated it. He smiled. It seemed the owner had gone with the theme of a wayfarer’s rest to peddle their licentious wares. A fitting idea, and certainly one that would appeal to tourists and haulers looking for a little distraction and release.

  He entered the main door, which was being watched by a rather tall and thick man. No augments to speak of, but the look on his face let Ward knew he wasn’t interested in being challenged. Ward casually stepped past him into a room that erupted in zither and lute music, and the smell of bakhoor.

  The architecture was also telling. Over the standard metal beams and spray rock walls, there were tile patterned floors, mosaic wall mountings, and arabesques. Between the load-bearing beams, there were columns that looked like carved marble, serving no purpose other than decoration.

  Clearly, the proprietor was committed to the theme.

  The layout of the place was modest, a two-story structure with four rooms on each floor. To Ward’s left and right, two separate lounges were situa
ted, each one with a set of furniture where guests were seated, either drinking colorful beverages or consuming carcinogens from shisha pipes.

  Beyond these, doorways connected to rooms in the back that seemed identical, though the furniture arrangements and art were moderately different from room to room. In the back, past a bead curtain leading to a room with a decidedly Turkic motif, was the woman he was looking for.

  Finch was seated on a low divan, her entourage gathered around her. But instead of what looked like a social circle, her group now consisted of five people who were clearly bodyguards. Her shadow, Nan, was sitting directly by her side. Ward waited until he caught her eye before approaching.

  “Ms. Finch,” he said, once he was within earshot. “Glad you met with me on such short notice.”

  Her bodyguards immediately enclosed him. One ordered him to raise his arms while the others began searching him. Nan stayed seated the whole time, leaving the frisking work to them.

  “I’m sensing a lack of trust.”

  One of the searching hands found the Rutger and pulled it out, holding it up to where Finch could see it. She looked at it, then at Ward with an arched eyebrow.

  “Personal protection,” he said with a shrug. “My employers knew I might be walking into a hornet’s nest. They also outfitted me with some choice implants and nanowire. You want your friends to inspect that too?”

  Finch ignored him, motioning to her bodyguard to pass over the gun, which he placed flat down on her hand. She looked it over carefully, as if she was scrutinizing it for something. She seemed satisfied eventually and nodded. “I recognize this. It’s standard issue for Interpol personnel, isn’t it?”

  “It was,” replied Ward. “I imagine they have a much-upgraded model by now.”

  “Seems appropriate given your background. A former policeman, turned convict, turned private investigator. Makes sense you would want a reminder of your glory days.”

  “You looked into my past. That’s good. It’s about time we met on equal terms.”

  Finch scowled. Spinning the gun around, she handed it butt-first to Nan, who placed it down on his lap pointed in Ward’s direction. Ward noted the same steely look on his face from the other night, and his leg began to ache from the memory of their last encounter. It was fortunate that for the moment, he was sitting quietly, even if he was pointing Ward’s sidearm at him.