Fox Hunt (Fox Meridian Book 1)

by Niall Teasdale

  Fox forced her fists to unclench and then remained silent as a service robot rolled in with her food, placing the tray down beside her and then retreating on silent, motorised wheels. ‘I thought you’d decided that research was too dangerous.’

  ‘I discussed it with Teresa. Actually, she discussed it with me. She’s quite determined that it should go on, I think because of what happened to her in Dallas. This technology has so much promise, Fox. It could literally revolutionise our production systems. You have no idea. I’m putting the prototype into the new tower. Production at twenty times the rate we have in current fabrication facilities, creating new materials at the molecular level. In your lifetime, we could see unheard of materials, nanoscale robotic devices capable of repairing damage at a cellular level. Miracle science, Fox. That’s what we’re talking about.’

  She peered at the man in the baggy jeans and the surfer singlet. To her knowledge, he had never ever been a surfer, but the image suited him. That said, as far as she knew anyway, he had never tried weed and she felt that was a surfer-dude requirement. ‘You don’t have to sell me on the tech, Jackson. I just got the impression you viewed that line of research as… sensitive. And I don’t mean commercially or socially.’

  ‘Huh, well, it could be the latter. Disruptive technology. I hate the term, but this is. I was… loath to continue after what happened in Dallas, but…’

  ‘But you can’t resist a technical challenge. After meeting you I kind of understood what happened to Oppenheimer. Okay, so you think Hunt got his hands on some of the research, and someone killed him for it?’

  ‘That’s where it gets strange… Why kill him on the flight back to Earth? If they got the data on the Moon, why not kill him there? If they don’t have it yet…’

  ‘They’d have waited. I guess that’s my job. I know what to look for at least. There was a data stick in his cabin terminal when I got there.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s all getting run. We’ll see what comes out.’ Turning, she leaned back on the lounger. ‘I do feel like I’ve been on my feet for twenty-four hours straight.’

  Jackson shrugged. ‘Don’t mind me. Nod off if you need it. I’ll say, under oath, you were interrogating me for a couple of hours.’

  ‘Oh yeah, the captain will believe that. Sure.’

  ~~~

  Grant J. Canard, Captain in the North American Police Administration and the head man of precinct 19, had left middle age behind him, but you really could not tell. He prescribed to the theory that age did not make you look distinguished: it made you look old. He looked little older than Fox, but had actually been born a decade before Jackson Martins. His face still held a flush of youth, his body was firm and carefully sculpted to appear fit, he had a strong jawline, straight, narrow nose, and blue eyes which sparkled. His hair, mid-brown without a hint of grey, was cut into an authoritative, very sharp, flat-top.

  As with many people rising up the social hierarchy, Canard was media-savvy and politically astute. Fox’s VA told her that his current level of delegated votes had gone up in the last month, which suggested the bastard had had a good Christmas season attending the right parties. His suit looked like it was a step up from his usual designer too.

  Fox disliked Canard because she thought he was superficial, overly political, and a lousy cop. Canard disliked her because despite not being political, she still managed to move in circles he found it difficult to get near. Despite their mutual dislike, he indicated a seat in front of his large, stylish desk as soon as she entered his office. She knew the room was v-tagged with a host of images that made it look less utilitarian, but she had a policy of turning decorative tags off when she was working: she wanted to see things only when they were really there.

  ‘I’ve got your report on the scene,’ Canard said. ‘So we’re looking at a hit? Political?’

  ‘A MarTech salesman hit for political reasons? No, this isn’t political. He was probably a spook.’

  Canard’s eyes tightened: wariness, Fox thought. ‘Evidence?’

  ‘Circumstantial at this point. His entire life looks manufactured to me and he was apparently nosing around some research facilities on Luna which he shouldn’t have been interested in.’

  ‘This would be according to Mister Martins, I assume?’

  Fox nodded. ‘There’s a commercial sensitivity aspect to the information. MarTech is doing some research which a lot of other people would like to get their hands on up there.’ She knew that he knew that she knew what the research actually was, and she also knew that that fact was probably pissing him off. For some reason she could not quite bring herself to be unhappy about that.

  ‘Autopsy and analysis of his possessions should be done by tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll pick the data up through my home system and go over it. Chances are we’re never going to close this one. If he was NIX they aren’t going to admit it, and the killer could easily be well outside our jurisdiction.’

  ‘Do what you can,’ Canard growled. ‘Our clean-up rate isn’t looking too bad at the moment, so losing one won’t make too much difference.’ Which was probably true, but she expected he would shaft her over it at some point in the near future. ‘How did the training assignment go?’

  ‘Fine. The incident with New Moon Data Security was a bit of a surprise, but it showed they were up to the task. Their commander gave a rousing speech at the dinner afterwards about collaboration being the best path to high-quality policing. I don’t suppose we’re going to see any of the money they’re paying NAPA for my time?’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ There were, Fox had to remind herself, one or two things about the job which Canard and she agreed upon.

  ‘Keep me apprised of developments in the case,’ he said, which was as close to a dismissal as she was going to get so she nodded and got to her feet. ‘Have a good weekend, Inspector,’ he added.

  ‘Thanks, same to you,’ she replied as she walked out. The problem with hearing Canard say something nice to her was that she felt like checking her back for knives.

  ~~~

  Fox knew she had forgotten something as soon as she walked out of the elevator car and turned down the corridor to her apartment. Sam was standing outside his own apartment door, a slight twist to his lips indicating that he was amused and waiting for her. Generally, a woman who found herself the subject of Sam’s attention was rather pleased. He was an attractive man with a firmly muscled, slim body, the result of training and not enhancement. His oriental features were distinctly pleasing to the eye: his eyes were dark, his lips quite full, his hair long and very black, perennially braided with silver beads to hold the ends and pulled back behind his head. Right now he was standing there in just a pair of jeans and she could see the programmable tattoo he wore over his right nipple, and she thought it likely that it was good that she could not read whatever Chinese character it was displaying.

  ‘Aw… shit, I forgot,’ Fox whined, slumping as she walked closer. ‘How the Hell did you know I was even in the building?’

  ‘I actually talk to my agent,’ Sam replied. He had a good voice, Boston educated, and very smooth. Fox kept going to her own door and he followed her; she did not object to this. ‘Javen asked Kit to let him know when you were back.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Fox grumbled as she sent the necessary signals through from her VA to the apartment’s security system. She had done a thorough job of locking the place down before going away for a month.

  ‘You have one of the most advanced personal agents there is, and you don’t actually talk to her. What’s with that?’

  The door opened and Fox walked in. Her apartment was one of the few areas of the world where she always allowed virtual reality to override real reality. It was cheaper and a whole lot easier than actually decorating. In contrast to the bland, rather sterile, corridor which she knew the building owners had tagged with virtual planters and a few scenic views, Fox’s apartment was, she thought, tastefully decorated in warm earth
tones. Off to the left as you walked in was a huge window, currently blacked out, but it was actually a window. Sam’s apartment only had the virtual kind, but Fox was unusual in thinking that the construction site for the North Hudson Barrier was worth looking at. Property prices along the Esplanade had taken something of a dip after the announcement of the New York Flood Defences project, which was why she could afford to live in a location so convenient to the precinct HQ on Governor’s Island.

  Aside from the window and the large, curved sofa, the kitchenette and dining area on the right, and the bulky form of Fox’s crime scene kit waiting beside the door, the lounge had an additional feature which was watching them enter from where it appeared to stand in front of the window. ‘I must admit I would like to know that myself,’ Kit said. ‘Barely any contact for a month. Most people wish to at least check in with their agent, even when off-world.’

  Fox sagged a little more and had her VA set coffee brewing. ‘Well… I’m just not used to having a proper agent.’ She brightened a little. ‘Terri said you were really capable, so I figured you could manage without–’

  ‘Even the most capable agent needs some training,’ Sam said, dropping onto the couch. ‘You’ve barely got to know Kit. I’m assuming you can see her, by the way, because she’s invisible to me.’

  Fox glowered. ‘Make yourself visible to our guest so I don’t look like an idiot.’

  ‘You told me to remain unseen to anyone but yourself unless specifically ordered to appear,’ Kit replied, and then gave a nod to Sam.

  Sam glanced up and nodded back, not bothering to hide a smirk. ‘Nice to see you again, Kit.’ He glanced over at Fox, the smirk widening. ‘I still think it’s really cute, but I also can’t believe Terri did it.’

  ‘She’s evil,’ Fox replied, pouring coffee. ‘You want some of this?’

  ‘Coffee makes me hyper and we are going out tonight. You’re not getting out of it.’

  Fox grumbled and turned to the sofa. Kit watched her, quite calmly, saying nothing. Kit was Teresa Martins’ latest project, expected to hit the market in the summer. Teresa, who was Terri to her close friends, had presented Fox with the computer and software ‘for consumer testing.’ Officially, Kitsune-592.23 was a class 4 artificial intelligence, software with a full capacity for rational thought and creativity, but constrained to operate under the direction of an owner. The constraint was there because society regarded AIs as potentially dangerous, if very useful, tools. The fact that Terri had given Kit the ‘Kitsune’ designation and the appearance of the AI’s avatar suggested that Terri was having a little joke.

  Kit’s avatar was a cute little anime-style figure, a Japanese girl with her features blended toward occidental and then exaggerated. She had a rounded face with a small, pointed chin, a pert nose, huge green eyes surrounded by clearly artificial, very black lashes, and a small mouth which still managed to have quite full, red lips. Her skin was pale and her hair was an ash-blonde mass which formed fox-like ears at the top. She was always dressed in an anime heroine’s style: a short, strapless, white dress cupped her small, but very pert, breasts and had a puffed out, pleated skirt. There was a bolero top with lace epaulets, white collar and cuffs, white knee-high, high-heeled boots, and then there was the thick, white brush which extended from her back. She was a kitsune, a fox spirit, and Terri had been grinning the entire time during the ‘product demonstration.’

  ‘We’ll go out. I’ll grab a shower and change. Give me a chance.’

  ‘I’ve had suitable clothes laid out in your bedroom, Inspector Meridian,’ Kit said.

  ‘Thanks… You see, this is what I mean. I’m not used to this kind of efficiency. I mean, you have to have had the house robot do that before I got here, so you anticipated me needing it and… I’m not used to servants.’

  ‘I’m not your servant,’ Kit replied. ‘I’m your personal agent and, if you work with me, I can be an exceptionally good one.’

  ‘Yeah… I know this. Sorry. The lunar trip came at a bad time. And transit flights make me cranky. Give me local news, please. If there are no urgent messages waiting, I’ll go through them tomorrow.’

  The window sprang to life as Kit walked out of Fox’s view of it, displaying not the outside view but a wall full of her preferred local news channel, IB-62. ‘There are no urgent messages,’ Kit said. ‘I would have ensured such were forwarded to you.’

  ‘Right…’ Fox sank onto the couch beside Sam, took a drink, sighed, and leaned back, closing her eyes. ‘Okay, so I am happy for you to be visible to Sam and Terri. Uh… and I’ll designate others as needed. Can’t think of many…’

  ‘It isn’t like your address book is overflowing,’ Sam commented.

  ‘I’ve only been in this metro for two years–’

  ‘And you know me, Terri, her father… Is there actually anyone else?’ Fox opened her mouth to respond but Sam added, ‘That you actually talk to rather than the ones you dumped.’

  Fox frowned. ‘I don’t make friends easily, or lightly. Where are we going anyway?’

  ‘New club opened in Lexington Tower while you were bouncing around on Luna. “Two Seven Lex” they’ve called it.’

  ‘Weird name.’

  ‘Something to do with Chinese lucky numbers.’

  ‘Seven is traditionally a number considered auspicious for relationships,’ Kit supplied without prompting. ‘Two may represent a doubling or something like “bright.” Two and seven together suggest a multiplication of good relationships or a bright relationship.’

  Fox opened an eye and peered at her friend. ‘You’re not trying to drag me to a sex club, are you?’

  ‘If I am, they fooled me too. Drink, dancing, probability of attempted pick-ups is high, but that’s normal.’

  ‘I can provide individual or aggregate reviews, if you wish, Inspector,’ Kit said, smiling.

  ‘No… I said I’d go out with him and it’s probably better if I don’t know what I’m getting into until I get there.’ She turned, closing her open eye and opening the other to peer at Kit. ‘If we’re going to be getting to know each other, you’d better start calling me Fox. Nothing that looks as… cute as you do should speak so formally.’

  ‘Thank you, Fox,’ Kit replied, beaming and clutching her hands in front of her breast. ‘I think we will make an excellent team.’

  Fox closed her eyes again. ‘I’m sure Terri’s just trying to wind me up.’

  ~~~

  Clubs were another place Fox let the virtual tagging work pretty much as the designers had set them. If you were going to go to a club, there was no point in worrying over reality, and the result of not accepting what others wanted you to see was usually less pleasant.

  For example, Fox had dressed herself in a slightly oversized T-shirt with a wide, scooped neck and a chaotic sort of pattern in black over a purple base, short shorts, and over-the-knee, high-heeled boots. What you saw was what you got. Sam was in jet-black plazkin jeans and a white T-shirt, but his shirt was v-tagged to run scrolling, dancing geometric video patterns with colour streams wound through them indicating his mood.

  If Fox were honest, Sam in a tight, white T-shirt was better than the enhanced version, but she had the distinct impression that 27Lex would have been considerably more boring without its virtual imagery. There was likely chrome and glass, and it probably didn’t look too bad, but…

  You entered straight from the level the maglev station was on, and the club went up and down. The dance floor was straight ahead, and apparently transparent: people were dancing in thin air with the bars and tables of the floor below quite visible beneath their feet. Looking up you could see a balcony with additional bars and people standing, looking down at the dancers. That was probably a real balcony. Everything was dark: black or smoked glass structural work, red and purple neon shone out, marking the railings. There was not a whole lot of light, and the music was throbbing, synthesised dubmetal that got into your chest and hummed. Now she was inside and looking around
, she noticed the throb of the music was reflected in the red lighting. And there was something else…

  ‘Drink?’ Sam suggested, pointing upward.

  Fox’s gaze swept the dance floor, taking in a lot of people who seemed to be dancing closer than she might have expected. The air had an odd, hot, musky scent to it. ‘I think a drink might be good.’ Her throat felt dry. As she followed her friend up the steps to the upper floor, she began to notice other things, like the number of people who seemed to have dilated pupils. As Sam ordered two drinks at the nearest bar, Fox leaned closer. ‘Are they using subliminals in the viron?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam replied, blandly. ‘I think it’s a little unsubtle. Their memetic engineer needs kicking in the ass. It’s just something to make the place live up to its name. They’ve got private rooms off the bottom floor if you can’t wait.’

  ‘Fuck, Sam! I’m not in the mood for picking up some random dick in a club.’

  Sam looked at her, his lips curling. ‘Any urge to try to get me in the sack?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then it’s not affecting you.’ He picked up a wine glass and handed it to her.

  Fox sipped it and glowered at him. ‘You’re not that irresistible, Mister Clarion.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I am. I spend a lot of time making sure I am. It’s my livelihood.’ His gaze flicked around the people on the balcony as he took a drink. ‘You, on the other hand, are just going to have to fend off horny drunks because you’re genetically lucky.’

  ‘I would submit that you are too. You haven’t had much work done. Nothing structural, no muscle enhancement. I’m the one with the military-grade tendons and the enhanced muscle fibres.’

  ‘No cosmetic work though.’

  ‘All you do is cleansing and smoothing.’

  He laughed. ‘Okay, so we’re both beautiful. People are going to wonder what’s wrong with us.’

  Fox shrugged. ‘I’m a cop and you’re an escort.’ Sam was, indeed, a licensed prostitute, but more than that, he was a bodyguard. He frequently made more money providing companionship for bored, rich women, but he had male clients, and he did ‘special jobs’ where the sex was essentially a cover for guarding the life of his temporary partners. And despite the fact that his reputation suggested he was fantastic in bed, Fox had never slept with him.