The Iron Swamp

by J V Wordsworth

  I felt no sympathy for Lisbold; this was his choice. It was my safety I worried about. At least Lisbold could stand up for himself physically. For the weaker individuals, I was the obvious target.

  Lisbold started to walk away. "Wait," I said. "There is something I need you to check out."

  He stopped but didn't turn around. "What?"

  "The roof. I was thinking the killer might have avoided the guards by coming out of the bedroom and getting onto the roof. If any of the satellites have images of the grounds, I want to see them."

  Lisbold thumbed his chin as if he was deciding whether to rebuke me for my insolence. "OK."

  I wasn't sure whether he would do it, but he walked off looking sufficiently dejected that I was almost grateful the Commissioner was related to Figuel. The feeling wouldn't last the day.

  There was no way Lisbold would find anything. The killer was too smart to be caught via satellite. But if there was footage, it could rule out climbing the building as a potential escape.

  I went back to my desk in the basement. They were supposed to be giving me one upstairs, but with everything that had happened The Kaerosh would dry out before it materialized.

  Everyone looked at me as I exited the elevator, some of them grinning, others pretending not to notice me. Lisbold was right. It had already started. At my desk both the figures had been pulled apart. The card, once mint condition, was ripped to pieces and sprinkled around the limbs and torsos of Sally and Pida Whey. On my chair was a note. You're too short for this. Get out while you can.

  I grinned as wide as my cheeks would allow. The security camera I had intended to use to blackmail Rake and Lisbold for breaking the same figures was still on, so whoever did it was caught, and I would make them pay.

  I pulled up the chair and started work. It was tempting to look through the database to find out how many more of Figuel's family I needed to worry about, but there were other things to do. I checked the name of the new Commissioner, Denrick Hayson, then despite myself I had to check what the press headlines said about me.

  There was not a bad headline amongst them. People were calling me hero and courageous and a whole host of words that didn't fit me at all. The Kaerosh Rotation called me a monument against corruption. Infinite Kaerosh stated that I could survive pressure great enough to snap a normal man's spine.

  I couldn't help wondering if Pyke had read any of it and whether she would still have rejected me. A few of the international sites had mentioned me, but the rest of Cos regarded Clazran's praise with the skepticism it deserved, and none of them were particularly flattering. Though none of them stated it outright, there was the underlying assumption that I was playing some sort of game.

  I had several more messages from journalists. Most of them had given up, or were waiting for me to contact them, but a few of them had messaged me a second time, and a few of those had messaged me a third. One of them, a woman named Lelia Hoskin at Kaeroshi Life, had sent me four more on top of that, two of which had been in the last hour. I deleted all the messages and blocked Hoskin before she filled my message tray.

  I briefly considered jacking-in. It had been a long time now since I'd checked even to see if someone had burned down my hideout or killed Dae Daniel. But I immediately dismissed the idea. I had more important things to do.

  The ether had not lost all its appeal. After five cycles in the basement, Dae Daniel Sun was a feared member of the Towdari sea scourge, and a lead player in the success of the mutiny against Captain Kowras, who was until his death one of the most feared names in the ether.

  I had at points regretted choosing the name Dae Daniel Sun, as Xizor or Khan might have inspired a greater level of fear, but it had not damaged my reputation as some had. I wasn't P.O.O.P.A.N.T.S, D.I.S.F.A.C.E, or some other name that mocked the unreality of the ether.

  It didn't allow selection of rude words for names, but some dedicated waste of space had discovered it didn't notice if you used caps and stuck full stops between each letter. The result had been a tidal wave of morons who even at level 100 no one took seriously.

  A war between the ACCERS, as they were known, and the shield pirates of Zahmooth had broken out just as I was signing up, and five cycles distant it had swept up most of the ether. About two cycles in it looked as if the ACCERS would be wiped out, until General P.I.S.S.K.N.I.C.K.E.R.S, the last remaining level 100 ACCER, had made an alliance with the Towdari pirates, and so began an exponential escalation. It swallowed the civilized cities of Oscilliath and Vnom Los, the elf demesnes of Baer Lea, Feeq, and Wensless, and the dwarf mines of Bobeck, Seach, and Cleopatra.

  It wasn't my war though. I stole from elf vessels and dwarf barges alike. As a rule, I did not steal from other Towdari unless provoked, but I seldom saw a ship that didn't offer me some excuse to board and pillage.

  There I was a revered pirate captain with wealth and respect, while in Cos I was still a dwarf with no friends and notes on his chair telling him to quit, but at least now I had purpose. Reality was once again providing an outlet for my brain, and I was not about to give that up for a fantasy world, however realistic.

  An hour passed reading the stories about myself before I checked CKN for Kenrey's replacement. The new Archbishon was a woman named Vera Liegon – fierce looking with long hair forced straight down the sides like a war helmet. The report said she had refused residence in Kenrey's compound which would soon be up for sale, but made no mention of whether she would be accepting Kenrey's other position as Guardian.

  Both her sons were killed in the Carasaki Rebellion in Unity Squadron, a name that no one who was there would ever forget. Over a million mech infantry descended upon Diamond City intent on annihilation. Built more like animals than humans, they utilized spider legs, tank treads, and all things in between to form the perfect killing machines for every terrain in Cos, and were as merciless as they come.

  Unity Squadron was a gesture of solidarity between the faiths that the Felycians desired to help the new Christians defend Diamond City, the greatest monument to religious accomplishment in Cos. It was a beautiful place, wealthy and powerful as any city in the Sodalis. Whole streets were constructed from crystal stone with the appearance of fine glass; harder than steel, it glittered in the sunlight like models in a snow globe. Diamond City was a testament to what large amounts of money could buy, with colorful gardens and parks, expensive infrastructure, and tourist attractions that didn't stink of rancid leftovers like ours did.

  But the faithful had done much and more to instigate the mech rebellion, and when they finally got their desire, the machines did not possess the forgiveness of their deities. By the time the war ended, the onslaught they waged against the religions of Cos had been Cythurian, and Diamond City had been reduced to charcoal.

  As I flicked through the images of the new Archbishon, I saw not a pixel of Vera Liegon's rigid face that suggested she had forgotten the fate of her sons.

  I searched Kenrey's stance on mech rights, and at the top of the list on CKN was a debate between Kenrey and Liegon about whether mechs should be given full citizenship. It was over an hour long, but I couldn't resist pressing play.

  There was something strange about watching Kenrey animated with energy, my first vision of him the lifeless mound of fat held together by a sleepsuit red with blood. Neither he nor Liegon looked happy to see each other. Not even when they shook hands did they meet eye to eye. Liegon was shorter than Kenrey and thin in every place he was round; opposites before a word was spoken. But after I watched the full hour, opposite didn't begin to describe it. Such a hatred existed between them that several times the discourse had nearly broken out into physical dispute.

  Both of them seemed to care deeply about the issue, though why Kenrey was so pro-mech I had no idea. My first inclination was money, but if that was the case it did not explain the passion behind his argument. There was none of the sly humor I might have expected from a man paid to make certain statements. He was every bit as angry as Lieg
on. As much as I tried to convince myself it was not so, it looked as if this was a subject that Kenrey actually cared about.

  The important point was that Liegon was undoubtedly capable of having him killed. In his absence, she had wasted no time in organizing a mass protest in Volis against mech rights to equal opportunity. I compared the date of the protest with today's date and realized they were one and the same. CKN suggested that there was potential for blood, and recommended nonattendance, but the facts suggested potential was somewhat understating it. In the mech interviews done over the previous few days, their outrage was concealed with indifference if it was concealed at all. Despite their pacifistic tendencies, their anger was just as clear as in the people arguing against them.

  Liegon's rise to power was looking to result in imminent disaster, but if I could prove that she murdered Kenrey, I might be able to end it all before it began, and if she was responsible finding the person she hired would hopefully create a trail I could follow back to her.

  I opened up the folder Dollews sent me containing the DNA and FSA samples from the murder scene. I was looking for people who could fit through the thin windows of Kenrey's bedroom and lift his lifeless body onto a chair. This limited the group to slim, strong people; most likely young human males.

  Over twenty people were in that room in the previous couple of days, but only a few of them were capable of fitting through the window. Nadine Whiley and Ellody Cone looked like shaved teddy bears; difficult to imagine they contained the level of mental scarring needed to murder someone, even if they could get Kenrey on the chair. The third girl, Laurie Colson, was not much taller than me, and the left side of her face looked as if it had been melted. A tumor-like growth extended over one eye which would have been obstructed entirely had it not slanted downward into her cheek. The right side was still human, attractive even, but her condition looked too severe for there to be a strong mind behind such a disordered skull. The defects in her left arm combined with her thin, weak frame also suggested that she could not put Kenrey on the chair.

  I tried a different tactic and looked for non-staff members who were in the room, but there were none. My entire list of suspects was cleaning staff. I cross referenced all the names with the criminal record database, and a single name came up. The man who took away the dirty laundry, Jacob Hobb, had a drug charge for possession. It seemed trivial, but perhaps I could learn more by meeting him. After my three week absence, and the temporary closure of the case, it was time I interviewed the staff.

  Chapter 11

  16/09/2256 FC

  As I arrived at the compound, I got a message from Lisbold saying that there was no satellite footage of the compound at the time of Kenrey's death. I wasn't in the habit of giving Lisbold important tasks, so I barely registered it and didn't respond. The slider slowed outside the entrance, and I got out as the gates opened to let me in, confronting me with a guard strolling out to meet me.

  "What can we do for you, detective?"

  "Routine stuff. I'd like to interview some of the staff and some of the guards as well if that's alright with you? They aren't suspects; I just want to hear their observations."

  "Right you are, sir. Any names in particular?"

  "How many staff are in today that have things to do in or around Kenrey's bedroom?"

  The guard thought about this for a moment. His young face did not give the impression of experience. One of his gun pouches had traveled around to his ass while the other neared his crotch. "I guess about fifty work in that area, but there are only about fifteen of them on site today. You want to see ʽem all?"

  "Why not? And send some of the guards through as well, it doesn't matter who."

  The man in charge of the compound was new, a man named Waltgeri Lesgech, which didn't bode well for the man running it before. "You can use this office," he said, showing me a room barely big enough to house a family of mice. It had no desk, and the broom in the corner behind the two facing chairs hinted at the room's true function.

  "I'll send the first two to you now," he said, "and tell ʽem to fetch the next person when they're done. That way you won't be kept waiting and they can do their jobs."

  For reasons only known to the architect, the door opened inward. I pushed the two chairs as far apart as I could without preventing the door from closing, and I had barely sat down when the first woman entered. She was older with curled hair bursting out of a hairnet and covered in enough mud to hide the color of her overalls.

  "Mrs. Flias," said the woman.

  "And what do you do, Mrs. Flias?"

  "Gardener."

  "And were you working the night of the murder?"

  She pushed her tongue up against her lips as if about to spit. "Don't like plice."

  "I won't keep you long."

  "Good."

  "Unless you killed Kenrey of course," I added. "Were you working the night of the murder?"

  "Can't remember."

  "Do the windows in Kenrey's bedroom open?"

  "Dunno."

  I stood up, rejecting the notion of throttling her. She wasn't on the suspect list. "Thank you, Mrs. Flias, if I think of any more questions I'll call for you again."

  "You're a short one aren't you?" she said as she got out of the chair. She stood a head taller than me and seemed more than amused by it.

  "Born that way I'm afraid. Some sort of genetic element to it."

  "I don't understand all that, but if you want my opinion on who done it–"

  "Not really. Thank you, Mrs. Flias–"

  "It was Jacob Hobb."

  "The laundry man?" She had my attention. "Why?"

  "Hated the Archbishon. Was always sayin' so."

  "Really? Any other reasons?"

  "Big fella as well. Don't reckon there's many round ʽere coulda killed the Archbishon."

  "Interesting." Perhaps she wasn't such an idiot. "And what makes you think it was someone from round here?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Don't be puttin' things in my mouth, plice. I ain't never said it was someone round ʽere, but if it was, sorry to say it, but it's Hobb."

  I considered and reconsidered, but it seemed worth asking her one more question. "And do you think that someone could have got in and out of here without being noticed?"

  Flias chewed on her gums. "No."

  "Why?"

  "I been ʽere a long time, seen a few attempts at killin' the Archbishon and no one ever gets much further than climbin' the wall. Where there ain't spikes, there's cameras or guards. It's Impossible."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Flias, you've been most helpful." I took a step forward to usher her out the door.

  Outside were two ladies, both much younger than Flias, and considerably more attractive. "Next please."

  The prettier of the two, with lemon hair and less bosom than most boys, stood up and followed me in.

  "And you are?"

  "Nadine."

  "Is that Nadine Whiley?"

  She nodded.

  Her DNA was in the room. "And what do you do, Nadine?"

  "I make sure, or made sure rather, that the Archbishon's expendables were always stocked up, and I still order all the food and things for the compound."

  I was half way through a nod when she continued. "Also if the Archbishon wanted anything new, I ordered that for him."

  "I see, so you are a sort of store manager."

  "I'm executive manager for ordering and purchasing."

  It wasn't a question, and I had little interest in asking the difference between ordering and purchasing. "Do the windows open in Kenrey's bedroom?"

  "Umm, yes, I think so."

  "You think so, or they do?"

  "Umm, yes, they do."

  I nodded. "Thank you. Did you enter Kenrey's bedroom the day he was killed?"

  "I replaced the scented soaps for the Archbishon's guest."

  "And did you notice anything unusual when you were in there?"

  "You mean like a bomb or something?"

&
nbsp; "That would be a good example, yes. Did you see a bomb?"

  She shook her head. "It seemed completely normal."

  I smiled. "How old are you?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Thank you Nadine, you can send the next one in."

  She got up to leave, but hesitated, seeming to think better of it. "If you want my opinion on who did it, it was Jacob Hobb."

  A few clicks of silence passed while I stared uncomprehendingly at the girl. "I think you better sit down again Nadine. Why do you say that?"

  "He hated the Archbishon," the girl said shyly.

  It was conspiracy. Someone was telling the staff to implicate Hobb, and I wanted to know who. The guards' motives were obvious. They needed Kenrey's killer caught, and it didn't matter who it was as long as it wasn't them, but my conversation with Flias suggested that the staff might also have a motive for framing one of their own. If they thought that no one could get over the walls without being seen, then they would conclude that the killer was someone who worked in the compound, and I was starting to agree.

  "I'm going to be honest with you, Nadine. You're in trouble. You are the second person in a row to suggest Jacob Hobb without me even asking, which makes me think firstly that you are lying, and secondly that someone has told you to say it. From here, things can go one of two ways. Either you tell me who told you to say that, or you come down to the police station with me and spend the night with a bunch of drunk thugs until you talk."

  "Can't." She tried to look away, but I followed her with my gaze.

  "Why not? Have you ever spent the night in a cell?"

  "I can't." A few droplets decorated her cheek.

  "You must."

  Tears started falling faster until Nadine buried her head in her hands and ran out. She made a mess of the door, first trying to push it, then falling back over her chair when she pulled it, before finally escaping.

  "Next one please," I called.

  The second of the two young girls stepped tentatively over the threshold of my broom office. "So," I said, "who do you think killed Kenrey?"