Giggling, Fox walked over and ran a hand over the seat. The faux leather was supple and well-padded, and that was as much of a selling point as the specification.
‘I could even execute a copy on this if we push the built-in aside,’ Kit said.
‘You can’t drive,’ Fox pointed out.
‘I could learn. Why should you have all the fun?’
‘Okay, I’ll take it.’
Simon blinked. ‘It’s not cheap…’
‘Company expense account.’
Simon’s grin shifted into overdrive. ‘I may be able to take the rest of the day off.’
New York Metro.
Sam raised his glass, clinking it against the one Marie was holding. ‘Here’s to being home.’
Marie grinned and took a drink. ‘You don’t think we should’ve waited for Fox to get back?’
‘No, for three good reasons.’
‘Three?’
‘Yes. One, this is me moving in and I’m quite sure you two celebrated her moving in as well.’
‘I guess we did.’
He nodded. ‘Two, Fox said not to wait, that she has a party of her own to attend tonight, and that she would raise a glass to my successful move in Topeka.’
‘She’s at a party?’
‘Her mother invited some “old friends” around to see the prodigal returned. I don’t think there were many people Fox knew, but it’s got to be done and she wasn’t really given a choice.’
‘Ah. And the third reason?’
‘When Fox gets back, we can do it again.’
Marie giggled. ‘Those are three very good reasons. I have some pity for Fox though.’
Sam shrugged. ‘She said she was going to spend as much time as possible chatting to an old neighbour who was, at least, entertaining. She also had a dress pattern fabricated which should scandalise the locals and make her mother envious, which she seemed to be enjoying.’ Another giggle. ‘She did say it with a sense of fun. I think she’s reconciled a little with her mother.’
‘Well, that’s good. And the dress sounds great.’
Topeka Agri-Zone.
A wave of silence washed over the assemblage in the large, airy lounge as Fox walked in smiling. Fox spotted a couple of rather shocked, disapproving looks, mostly on the older women, and wondered what their reaction was to her mother’s short, red dress. There were flickers of lust from some of the men, quickly suppressed, and some rapid hiding of smiles from many of the younger women, not that there were many of them. Someone, Fox was not sure who, appeared to have picked himself up a much younger wife who was looking daggers at the newcomer: it was a first impression, but Fox guessed at a mistress who had won the love-triangle battle, but was wary of her new husband’s tendency to switch sides without warning.
Fox’s dress was a black tank, plazkin at front and back with mesh sides revealing a little less than half her breasts. She had on killer heels, six and a half inches high with an inch of platform, which made her taller than just about anyone in the room and lengthened her already long legs. She had picked up a bracelet and necklace in a little jewellery outlet beside the fabricator building. Both were in silver, darkened with enamel. The necklace read ‘DIVA’ in block letters with a bright red kiss-print beneath it, while the bracelet said ‘Sexy’ in scrolling, gem-encrusted script. She had painted her nails blood red, and her lip gloss matched. Her eyes were picked out in kohl, the lids whitened to make her eyes stand out and then shaded above. The last time Fox had worn anything quite so outrageous was when she had gone out for an evening determined to return with a one-night stand.
‘I remember you in blonde pigtails,’ Jonathan said: he looked more surprised than anyone.
Fox frowned at him. ‘I was four, Dad.’
‘Girls are always little when you’re a father,’ Bart Wade said, a laugh in his voice and amusement on his face. They had put him in a chair which could be said to be in pride of place near the room’s centrepiece, a mock fireplace set with logs Fox knew were plastic. His interjection produced a rumble of laughter around the room. Bart had always been an odd combination of disreputable and respected, and if he was amused, so was everyone except the ex-mistress. Fox flashed the old man a brighter smile.
‘Damn right,’ Jonathan said firmly. ‘People, this is my daughter, Tara. The pigtails have gone and she’s been away for quite a while, but she’s come back a damn fine woman.’
‘On the executive board of Palladium Security Solutions,’ Andrea put in, sounding distinctly proud. Fox had noted her eyes narrowing earlier, but Bart’s acceptance seemed to have overcome whatever emotion that had been.
‘Don’t let that fool you,’ Fox said. ‘I’m a private investigator with a fancy title.’
‘Let’s get all the introductions out of the way,’ Jonathan suggested. ‘You don’t know all of this bunch.’
That was certainly true. Out of about twenty visitors, Fox recognised five, including Bart Wade, all of them neighbours still living in the places they had occupied when she left. Kit filed the names and faces for future reference, though Fox doubted there would be much need for it. There were newer neighbours: her mother had mostly stuck to local couples for the invite list. The area had a pretty solid, median age-range population, most of whom had had children, watched them grow up and leave the nest, and were comfortably settling into late middle age.
There was one younger man, Bruce Cauter, who was about Fox’s age and still living with his parents. He worked at the university, doing genetics work on drought-tolerant crops, and the way Andrea introduced him suggested she was entertaining relationship fantasies. The way Bruce’s eyes kept flicking down from Fox’s face suggested he was having fantasies of his own, and that he did not get out much.
Then there were the other two couples, one from the arcology to the north, and the ex-mistress and her husband from an area Fox knew as one of the substantially better-off districts. They were there because of some political connection.
The arcology couple were nice enough, older than the other couples and likely representing Topeka’s stable political wing. Ross and Sheila Runyard, who Kit quickly located online and tracked their voting delegations through LifeWeb. They were among the leadership of the local libertarian movement with a very strong handle on the voting across a large portion of the city. That said, they were warm, even though they already knew that Fox’s politics did not match theirs. They knew why she was there and they thanked her for accepting the task.
Cory Druss and his new wife, Lisette, were another matter. He was warm and welcoming in a way which suggested that Lisette was not being paranoid. Younger than the Runyards, but still a little older than the average for the room, Fox had to wonder whether Lisette was wife two or wife three. He had had age-reduction procedures, maybe even a little genetic fixing, to keep his years from showing, but it was still fairly obvious that Lisette was a good two decades his junior. His hair was the kind of jet black you could not get from nature and there was a marked limbal ring around his irises which should have faded with age and he had had put back. But Lisette was young, fit, bright, beautiful, and stacked, and should not have had a thing to worry about.
‘Ross is right,’ Cory said, his smile too broad and too full of whitened teeth. ‘We should be thanking you for taking care of this for us. These dust rats have too much freedom when they come up here, but we can’t do anything about it until we can show they’re trouble.’
‘They’re still citizens, Mister Druss,’ Fox replied. ‘It’s a free country, with free trade. And there’s no proof, as yet, that any of them were involved in Sandy Bateson’s disappearance.’
‘Of course, but I understand you’ve experience of how these gangs behave when they come up here. The incident in forty-five was terrible. Horrific.’
Fox flicked a glance at her mother who was hovering beside them and looking a little nervous for some reason. It would have been Andrea who had told Druss about Susy’s death and the effect it had had
on Fox. ‘Fanatics pressed into action by United Anarchy don’t represent the majority. I blame UA for that incident, not everyone who lives in the protectorates.’
‘We like to keep a watch on them anyway.’ He was good, very good, but his eyes had hardened a little and the smile was a little more fixed than it had been.
‘Keeping your eye, and mind, open is always a good policy, Mister Druss. Nice meeting you, but I’d better keep moving or I’ll never get through all Mom’s guests.’ It was a convenient excuse and he possibly knew it: Fox had one person left to greet and she was anxious to do so, but Andrea seemed keen to move her on too.
‘Yes, it’s so nice to see so many friends here,’ Andrea said, ‘and we have time later for more conversation, I’m sure.’
Fox moved away, heading for the fireplace, and Kit piped up. ‘Mister Druss is a strong supporter of the local Watch movement. His political base is quite firm. Not as strong as the votes Mister and Mrs Runyard have been delegated.’ There was a little pause. ‘And you control more law and order votes than he does.’
Trying not to visibly blanch, Fox carried on walking. ‘What about the wife?’
‘A social politician. She has no delegated votes. Her own is openly delegated to her husband. She does have a following on LifeWeb, however, and a considerable network of contacts within the Topeka social set. When will we discuss the Batesons?’
‘In the morning. I want time to consolidate my opinions.’ Fox came to a stop, grinning down at the old man on the comfortable chair Jonathan generally sat in to read. ‘Mister Wade, I am really pleased to see you here.’
Bart Wade barked out a laugh. ‘Feeling’s mutual, Tara. And you’re old enough to call me Bart, so you do that so I can enjoy the view and not feel like such an old pervert.’
Fox smirked at him. ‘Then you call me Fox. Friends call me Fox. How are you doing?’ She perched with half her butt on the arm of his chair and accepted the glass of wine her father handed her with a nod of thanks.
‘Oh I’ve never been better.’
‘What’s left of you,’ Jonathan added, grinning.
‘Oh, half of me’s metal and plastic, but the new ticker’s good for thirty thousand miles without an oil change and they tell me I can punch through walls with my knees.’
Giggling, Fox swapped her glass to her left hand and held out her right, turning it. ‘I’m catching up. Army put a few things in and I had to have half my arm replaced earlier this year. This has metal bones and a computer in it.’
He peered at her hand: Fox guessed he had had his eyes fixed too. ‘You don’t say. May I?’ She moved her hand closer and he took it, running fingers rough with age over the skin. ‘I didn’t know they could make it that real.’
She twisted. ‘Try down toward the elbow. They tell me it’s easier to spot where it joins the real skin.’
He slid his fingers higher, a puzzled frown on his face. ‘Not at my age, girl. If there’s a difference, I can’t see it.’
Fox could, if she bothered to check and used her best image-enhancement software, the set that gave her a headache if she used it for more than a few minutes at a time. ‘It’s there. But it feels the same as ever, I think. Kind of hard to tell. I mean, do you remember what your arm feels like?’
‘Lucky if I can remember my age. So you’re some high-flying company executive now? Bit of a change from the girl who went off to join the Army.’
‘Army transferred me into the UNTPP, antiterrorism and special operations. Moved on to NAPA, and then Jackson Martins suckered me into taking a job on the board of his security firm. Still not sure how that happened, but mostly I still get to investigate crimes.’
‘The Bateson girl. Bad business. Don’t know the family, but it’s been on the local news feeds. What?’
‘I recall you thinking all this internet news was the death of journalism.’
‘And I was right, but you have to get your news from somewhere.’ She could not really argue the point. Certainly impartial journalism was basically a thing of the past. ‘You think you can find her?’
‘I’ve had a few hours looking into it. I talked to her parents this afternoon.’
‘And went shopping. I saw that shiny new Q-bug parked up outside.’
‘Dad’s fault. He reminded me how useful they are. That goes in my kitbag for running investigations and I don’t have to borrow that old thing he’s using.’
‘That old thing has done me fine for a good eight years without a complaint,’ Jonathan pointed out.
‘Yes, but you don’t have to hear the complaints about the on-board from a sarcastic AI. Kit was very disparaging about that computer, and this model has an uprated motor with bigger batteries. Got the same range and it’ll pull a bigger load.’
Jonathan looked thoughtful and Bart let out a rasping laugh. ‘Now you got him thinking.’
‘It’s not cheap. That’s why I bought it on the company. They had an uprated version of your Panther, the Komodo, that’ll haul more. Bit slower. The Sand Viper’s got a top speed that scares me.’ She grimaced. ‘Kit wants to learn to drive it.’
‘You did not have to say it like that,’ Kit commented.
‘Who’s this Kit?’ Bart asked. ‘An AI, you say?’
‘My personal assistant,’ Fox told him. ‘I’d introduce you, but I’m betting you never got an implant.’
‘Ha! Shows what you know,’ Bart replied. ‘They put one in when they did my heart. Mostly use it to monitor my health, mind. I got software on there that links it direct to my health company. Eupraxia Medical, that’s one of Martins’ companies, right?’
‘To be honest, MarTech Technologies is Jackson’s company. The others are what falls out of what Technologies produces. Oh, there’s BioTek which does the more organic research. Jackson’s a genius, but he’s not a geneticist. But, yeah, Eupraxia handles medical services. I hope we have a satisfied customer?’
‘As long as my blood’s still pumping, I think they’re doing a good job. Now where’s this assistant of yours?’
You could tell the people in the room who had VR implants because they all paused as the kitsune avatar appeared in front of Bart’s chair, standing beside Jonathan, who could not see her. Bruce Cauter’s Adam’s apple bounced like a cork in a hurricane.
‘Well, isn’t she just the cutest thing you ever saw?’ Bart said.
‘Thank you, Mister Wade,’ Kit said, smiling. ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
‘You have a very fine tail, girl.’
‘My avatar was fashioned after a kitsune, a Japanese fox-spirit. They can have a number of tails, but one is quite enough for me.’
‘Well, it certainly is a good one.’ Kit’s tail flicked playfully in response and her cheeks coloured a little. ‘Now you have to be one of those proper AIs, with emotions and everything.’
‘She’s a class four,’ Fox said. ‘She’s smart, and she’s getting to be quite a good detective herself. Her model isn’t on the market yet, but I think they’ll be popular when they are. She’s only seven months old and she’s learning fast.’
‘Got a pretty blush too,’ Bart said, grinning and making Kit blush even more.
‘It is really weird listening to two-thirds of a conversation,’ Jonathan said.
‘Please apologise to your father, Fox, for my lack of visibility,’ Kit said.
‘I will not,’ Fox replied, smirking at her father. ‘If he wants to be part of the conversation, he should have an implant like us modern folks.’
‘Huh,’ Bart grunted. ‘No one’s ever accused me of being modern before.’
New York Metro.
Marie looked up as Sam walked back into the room. Something fluttered in her stomach. He was shirtless, which was not uncommon for him. She might have checked his feet and discovered he was barefoot, but her eyes were fixed on his chest and the way his muscles shifted under the skin even doing something as simple as walking. She had seen him like that several times now, while she ha
d been staying in Fox’s apartment, since he would wander in, oblivious to the effect he had. Or apparently oblivious, since he acted as though it was totally normal. She should have been used to it, but the flutter happened every damn time.
‘What does your tattoo say today?’ she managed, hoping it covered up the staring.
‘It says “bǐng,” which is “happy.”’
‘How do you change it?’
He sat down beside her and picked up his wine, noticed her glass was empty, and reached for the bottle. ‘There’s software on my implant. The pattern is formed by artificial pigmentation cells embedded in the skin and driven by a computer the size of a large cell. And that’s under-utilised. Very simple. I’ve seen people with them covering their entire torso with enough resolution to print out book pages, and they’re saying the next generation will be colour-capable.’
Marie giggled. ‘I guess you could have some wild tattoos that way. I wonder if Fox has got bored and killed anyone yet.’
‘Fox doesn’t normally go around killing people.’
‘Yeah, but under the circumstances…’ She picked up her wine, took a drink, and watched the world give a small wobble. ‘I may have had too much of this.’
‘It is wisdom to know when one has had enough.’
‘I’m not sure I’d describe me as wise…’
Topeka Agri-Zone.
Fox had had enough after ninety minutes of shuffling around between various people she either barely remembered or did not know. Despite Andrea’s plans, Bruce looked horrified whenever he was in danger of having to speak to her: his eyes bulged and he tugged at his shirt collar as though it had suddenly grown too tight. And he was the only person there with even a slight degree of interest for her since the genetics sounded like it might be worth hearing about. Him and Bart, of course, and when Fox noticed he was missing from his seat, she made excuses about needing some air and stepped outside.
Bart Wade was, as she had expected, sitting out on the veranda. At home, he sat on the steps leading up to his door, but there were none of those here. The veranda had a little loveseat which worked better, in Fox’s opinion, and he did not object when she sat down beside him.
DeathWeb (Fox Meridian Book 3) Page 15
