‘Good girl. Friday night you’re going to be a good girl for Druss.’ Fox felt her face go cold as the blood drained out of it, but she kept listening. There was nothing audible for maybe another minute. Sandy was crying her silent tears until she could pull herself together, retrieve the PC, and turn it off.
~~~
There had been a need to wash her face. Cold water. It had washed the sensation back into her cheeks, and then she had started downstairs to the workshop. Meeting her father at the bottom of the steps had been something she really did not want.
‘You okay, Fox? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I’m… I just read something that bothered me. Uh, to do with another case.’
‘The killer in New York?’
Fox smiled. ‘I need to go check on Pythia.’ Starting past him, she stopped and put a hand on his arm. ‘Dad… When I left, I was kind of pissed off and some things were said.’
‘I’m aware. We said some things too, as I recall.’
‘Yeah. I’m not saying I didn’t mean them, and I’m not saying I was wrong, but I’ve never been disappointed that you were my father. I’m glad you’re you.’
‘I feel like I missed part of this conversation.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Dad.’ Turning, she headed off to the garage at a brisk pace.
‘All right, ladies,’ Fox said as soon as she was back in the air conditioning, ‘what do we have? Kit?’
Kit appeared in her longer skirt and glasses ensemble. She looked pleased and Fox noted her downloading herself back to the processor in Fox’s arm. ‘I have found Sandy.’
‘Show me.’ Fox closed her eyes and found herself standing in a reconstruction of the market. A time counter hovered, constantly at the right viewing angle, and said the time was eleven forty-five.
‘Pythia built this from the camera views at the time. Sandy walks in from behind you.’
Turning, Fox spotted the girl as she walked into the park. Sandy was pretty, younger than her years and yet older. Her blue eyes were dull, but her hair was bright gold and fell around her shoulders like a cloud. She was wearing jeans and a light, thin-strapped top, which Fox figured her father would not approve of but then her father would be out at work at this time. Her figure was good, but thin. She would fill out with a little more age, Fox guessed.
They followed her as she walked between the stalls. Her eyes flicked about constantly. She was nervous, constantly checking to see whether anyone was following her, but the two people who were actually watching were doing it almost a week later. Fifteen minutes of checking and she turned, making a beeline for a stall on the northern side.
As far as Fox could tell, all of the stalls there were staffed by people from out of town, several of them out of the south. Sandy checked about once again and then slipped around behind the stalls, and that was when a boy turned and reached out for her hands. The video froze.
‘Hello, Drew,’ Fox said.
‘You know who he is?’ Kit asked.
‘Only the first name. It’s in her diary. You’ve run facial recognition?’
‘Pythia is doing that now. I got a much better image of him from when they were setting up.’ She reached out and pulled a still frame out of the air for Fox to look at. Drew was a handsome young man, maybe twenty, with a solidly muscled body derived from hard work. Dark hair and eyes, rugged features, strong jawline, and high cheekbones. He wore a heavy, leather jacket and jeans faded by age, and boots that looked like Army issue from the last generation of combat uniform.
‘Run it on.’
The couple talked for a few minutes, one of the others on the stall joining in briefly, and then they parted, Sandy moving off at a brisk pace.
‘They do not have a long conversation,’ Kit said, ‘and she does not appear again.’
‘Finalising arrangements. Rogers and Bateson were right. Sandy ran away, but she ran away with Drew, probably into the Southern Protectorate. Get images of all the people on that stall. We’ll go to the market tomorrow and see if we can talk to any of them.’ She backed out of the simulation and opened her eyes. ‘Pythia, forensics, please.’
‘There was not a lot to find,’ Pythia replied, ‘but there was something. There was DNA and hair from three individuals, one male, two female, almost certainly the Batesons. I also found hair from three different sources, and fingerprints from three individuals.’
‘To be expected. It’s a family house.’
‘Yes. The bed sheets were clean, almost certainly replaced since Sandy Bateson slept in the bed. The mattress, however, yielded blood from one of the female DNA sources. Not large amounts, but some. There were also seminal and vaginal fluids. The DNA was degraded, but there was a sixty-eight per cent probability of a match to the male DNA source.’
‘Mister Bateson was sleeping with his daughter,’ Kit said.
‘Not sleeping,’ Fox replied. ‘He never stayed that long. The print outside the window, Pythia?’
‘Corresponds to an Army standard issue combat boot last used in twenty fifty-two. It is commonly available in surplus stores.’
‘Drew was wearing a pair. So he comes to her window, lets her know he’s there. Maybe she goes out that way, or she sneaks out through the door. I bet Malcolm’s a sound sleeper. At least one of the other people on the stall is in on this, so they’ve waited after the market closed. They have transport not far away. Not too close, don’t want to be seen, but not too far. She goes fast and light. She even forgets her diary, but Daddy raped her the night before and she’s desperate to get out.’
‘You know he did?’ Kit asked.
‘I know. She accidentally recorded him doing it.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. Oh. Pythia, I want you to extract all the audio files from Sandy’s PC. Clean up the audio and run voiceprint analysis on the voices. Kit… If you want to listen to the files, I won’t stop you, but if you do, be prepared. It’s not a pleasant listen, especially the last entry. Also, I want everything you can find about Cory Druss and any relationship he might have with Malcolm Bateson.’
‘Cory Druss, the politician?’
‘Yeah, him. Bateson had plans to whore his daughter out to the lordly Mister Druss. Bart said he liked young women. I wonder if he knew how young?’
‘On that subject,’ Pythia said. ‘The other task you assigned to me? Your mother went out today, at ten eighteen. She went to a motel in the northern part of the city where she was met by Mister Druss at eleven. My drone frame was able to pick up audio of their meeting. There was very little conversation, however. I am not sure it is worth listening to.’
Fox’s fists clenched. ‘Thank you, Pythia.’
‘Your mother is sleeping with Mister Druss,’ Kit said, ‘who appears to have a taste for very much younger women.’
‘Let’s just concentrate on Sandy for now. I’ll deal with Andrea later. Kit, I need an appointment to see Detective Rogers, tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Of course, Fox,’ Kit said, her voice subdued.
30th June.
The market was not quite up to speed when Fox walked in, which was fine by her. She had picked out an outfit which, if her memory of the gangs out of the dustbowl was right, would make her look like one of the girls who gravitated in that direction. They had a style which Fox thought was a little crazy given their choice of living area, but she could make it work. On mentioning this to Kit, she was told that Fox could make anything aside from a fatsuit work.
Whatever the truth of that statement, Fox had decked herself out in a pair of stupidly short, denim shorts with a pair of belts looped around her hips, a pale blue bikini bra with string straps which was about a size too small, high-top boots, and black, mesh thigh-highs. The locals looked at her as though she was from out of town, which of course she was but previously no one had batted an eyelid.
She browsed, getting the stink eye from a couple of stall owners as she gravitated to the top end where the out-of-towners were l
ocated. With the stalls up, it was more obvious that that top rank had a wider gap between it and the other stalls. Here Fox received fewer disapproving looks and more distinctly approving ones. Finding the stall was easy, and not finding Drew there was unsurprising.
‘His name,’ Kit said, ‘is Drew Maple. Pythia tracked him down. He was born in the Tulsa projects, had the biomods done when he got to eighteen. Standard dry environment stuff which he seems to have saved for himself. And after that he vanished. That was about fifty months ago and he has not been seen since.’
‘And that continues.’
‘If I had skipped town with my girlfriend, I might not show up here either.’
‘You have a girlfriend? Does Vali know?’
‘Oh, that’s funny.’
Fox forced herself not to laugh. ‘What bothers me is that no one on that stand was here last week. Okay.’ She paused, considering, and then walked over to the stand. ‘Hey,’ she said aloud.
She got smiles from the three men staffing their stand of leather goods. ‘Morning.’ The speaker was the eldest, a man of maybe fifty. He was dressed in a leather waistcoat, faded blue jeans, and Army boots. He had a beard that could easily have held a flock of starlings.
‘Ah, well, I was hoping to see Drew here. Passed by a couple of weeks ago and bought these belts and I wanted to thank him. Good-quality work.’
‘Thank you. We make all our own products ourselves.’
‘It shows.’
‘Drew’s not around this week, but I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by…’
‘Call me Fox, everyone does. Thanks. I hope he’s not sick or anything.’
‘No, but we like to mix things up now and again.’
Fox smiled. ‘Great. Maybe I’ll see you around.’ She turned and strutted away.
‘Sure hope so.’
Fox let herself grin and put a little more swing in her hips for his benefit. ‘Kit, call Chicago and get them to dispatch a long-range, airborne surveillance frame. I want it to follow the people on that stall.’
‘I’ll send the request immediately. You believe Drew has taken Sandy to wherever they have encamped.’
‘He’s got a problem. He’s had the mods to make life easier down there, but she hasn’t. That means she uses more water than he does and they’ll need to be careful about dust or she’ll be coughing her lungs up inside of a week. He’ll need help and their camp is the best bet.’
‘Might I remind you that you don’t have all those mods yourself?’
‘No, the Army assumed that we’d always be in combat gear so lung filters weren’t an issue, but filter masks aren’t hard to get hold of. I need to wrap things up here before I can go after Sandy, though. That’s where Detective Rogers comes in.’
New York Metro.
Kit, the copy still residing on her home server, peered closely at the picture she had found on LifeWeb. According to LifeWeb’s photo-tagging system, it showed Lauren Coolidge running and it was dated on the nineteenth of June. Coolidge had gone missing on that date and her LifeFit logs indicated that she had been running on the East Side. Kit was moderately sure that that area did not have a lot of huge, grassy areas.
A few minutes of matching pictures from the only large, grassy area Kit was aware of suggested that the backdrop of the photograph was in Central Park, which posed something of an issue. Verification was in order and she spent some time, almost a second, running tests on the picture to ensure that it was, indeed, what it appeared to be. Satisfied, she dispatched a message to her counterpart in Topeka, and then set to work with renewed vigour.
She had found something very interesting, but it might just be a glitch. Kit needed more.
Topeka Agri-Zone.
Rogers looked white, with a hint of green, when he had finished listening to the recordings on Sandy’s PC.
‘I know how he feels,’ Kit commented. ‘I admit that, even without internal organs, I felt nauseous. My copy in New York has uncovered an anomaly regarding Lauren Coolidge’s murder. She’s looking for more information.’
‘Okay, keep me informed.’ Aloud, Fox said, ‘You okay?’
‘No,’ Rogers said. ‘You listened to that without the warning and you didn’t throw up?’
‘I… It was close. Do you think there’s enough there to do something about Bateson?’
He frowned. ‘I can run it past the local prosecutor. My opinion is that he needs to be locked up until the oceans boil, but it’s not for me to decide.’
Fox nodded. ‘I know how it is.’
‘Druss is a bigger problem. This might get him in for questioning and it’s maybe probable cause to go looking, but the guy didn’t touch Sandy Bateson and he’s got political juice enough to slide.’
‘Leave Druss to me.’
Rogers’ eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not going to do anything…’
‘Illegal? No. Don’t worry about it.’
‘And you have a lead on Sandy?’
‘Not yet, but I will have. If you can get clearance to pick up Bateson tonight, I’d like to accompany you.’
‘I’ll let you know.’
~~~
‘Mom, could I have a word?’
Andrea looked around at her daughter and smiled. ‘Of course, Tara, what about?’
‘Not here. I need you to come out to the workshop with me. There’s something I need to show you.’ Without waiting, Fox headed for the kitchen door, but her mother followed, frowning.
‘What’s this about, Tara?’
‘I found some evidence which I’d like your opinion on.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to get your father–’
‘Dad’s fixing that irrigation pump and I don’t want to disturb him. Besides, I think you’ll be more informed on this one.’
‘You’re being obtuse, Tara.’ There was a slightly disapproving tone in Andrea’s voice.
‘Sometimes it’s better if you get an impression of something without any preconceptions. I want your initial reaction to this, what you think and feel before your brain has had time to process it properly.’
‘Did they teach you that in detective school, or wherever you learn these things?’
‘Army interrogation course, actually, but it’s the same principle however it’s applied. It’s a matter of judging the data you get based on how your subject is presented with it, and determining how best to present certain kinds of information.’
‘I thought the Army’s idea of interrogation involved thumbscrews and electrodes.’ Andrea’s tone suggested that she was only half-joking.
‘They stopped teaching us proper use of thumbscrews in the forties,’ Fox replied and pushed into the workshop. ‘Pythia, play audio file SAN zero three.’
Sandy’s voice cut in from the speakers on the server. ‘Dear… Shit, it hurts. Dear Diary, sometimes I think you’re the only friend I’ve got. Trudy’s great. And Nicky…’
‘What is this, Fox?’ Andrea asked.
‘Just listen.’
It was not the entirety of Sandy’s diary. Fox had cut together a sequence lasting around twelve minutes from the long list of files. After about a minute, Andrea was trembling and Fox stepped around behind her, ready. ‘Just keep listening, Mom.’
Andrea broke after six minutes, which was more than Fox had expected, but she was still ready, gripping her mother’s arms and holding her there. ‘Keep listening. It’s important.’
‘I’ve heard enough, Tara. Please.’
‘You haven’t. Listen.’
The last two minutes were the longest. Fox was a little surprised to find that, even on a second listen, the recording of Sandy Bateson being forced into sex with her father had her almost begging for it to be over soon.
‘Good girl. Friday night you’re going to be a good girl for Druss.’ Andrea went very still at the sound of Malcolm Bateson’s voice. Fox released her and moved slowly around to look at her mother’s face, streaked with tears, and white as a sheet under the summer tan.
‘That’s the reaction I was hoping to see,’ Fox said. Andrea’s mouth opened and nothing came out. ‘I looked pretty much the same after I heard it, but I’m not fucking Cory Druss.’
Andrea opened her mouth again, but this time her eyes widened and a fraction of a second later, she darted into a corner, bent double, and threw lunch up onto the concrete floor. Fox watched her until the vomiting became retching, pity warring with disgust in a mired-down, trench battle which neither side was making much progress with.
‘I’m going to join Detective Rogers in about forty minutes and we’re going to take Malcolm Bateson in,’ Fox said to her mother’s back. ‘NAPA believe there’s enough evidence to put him away. Druss is another matter. Connected, there’s limited evidence. Rogers will see what he can get from Bateson, but Druss is probably going to walk. You know, if his tastes in women run to teenagers, you have to wonder what he sees in you. Or is that why you’ve been having all the treatments and dressing like a New York street hooker?’
Andrea spat on the floor, still leaning over the puddle of stomach contents she had made. ‘How did you know about Cory?’
‘You’re not exactly trying to hide it, Andrea. People noticed him visiting every Tuesday and Thursday. Specifically when Dad’s out of the house.’
‘But–’
‘He didn’t come yesterday? No, you went to a motel. Bad move. Not only do they have lousy soundproofing, but the walls are thin enough that infrared cameras can see warm bodies through them. I got to watch my… You know, I’m just not going to call you that at the moment. I got to watch you fucking that degenerate in false colour and listen to all the dumbass lines he fed you. It hasn’t occurred, just once, that the only reason he’s doing it is your delegated votes?’
Andrea managed to straighten up and turn around. There was still no colour in her face, but she was starting to rally, starting to rationalise. ‘I don’t believe–’
DeathWeb (Fox Meridian Book 3) Page 18
