Vigilantes

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  “Yeah,” Goudkins said. There was a lot of meaning in that single word. Essentially, Goudkins agreed with her and was disappointed in Ostaka.

  “We’ve discovered some things,” DeRicci said, “that need to be investigated, but quite honestly, I don’t feel comfortable having the inquiries come from any law enforcement organization on the Moon.”

  “Because?” Goudkins opened her carton. Something steamed, but DeRicci couldn’t smell it over her own fatty and unhealthy meal.

  “Well, I can’t tell you that unless you agree to help us first.” DeRicci ate another onion ring.

  Goudkins shook her head, and DeRicci felt her heart skip a beat. She had expected Goudkins to help. She really didn’t have a plan if Goudkins refused.

  “We don’t work for you,” Goudkins repeated, but without all the attitude that Ostaka had brought to that phrase.

  “I know,” DeRicci said, “and that’s both good and bad.”

  Goudkins picked up a fork and stirred something in her carton. “You’re intriguing me.”

  “Good,” DeRicci said.

  “Can I change my mind after I hear what you need?” Goudkins asked.

  “No,” DeRicci said.

  Goudkins scooped up something from her carton. Whatever she had ordered was brown and drippy and completely unidentifiable.

  DeRicci ate another onion ring. Her fingers lingered over the chicken leg that sat on top of the entire carton, but she didn’t take it yet.

  “Will it get me in trouble?” Goudkins asked.

  “It might,” DeRicci said.

  Goudkins set her fork down. “Will it help solve what’s been happening on the Moon?”

  “Possibly,” DeRicci said.

  “Will it prevent another attack?” Goudkins asked.

  “We don’t know,” DeRicci said. “We hope so.”

  “We?” Goudkins asked.

  DeRicci nodded, then privately gave up and grabbed the leg. It was soggy and she didn’t care. She took a bite from it, getting a larger hunk of meat than she planned.

  She felt like a primitive throwback, some kind of early human that only ate with its fingers.

  The thought was enough to get her to set the leg down.

  “I suppose you’re not going to tell me who we is,” Goudkins said.

  “I think you’re smart enough to figure it out,” DeRicci said.

  Goudkins smiled. She took another bite of her food. She seemed very dainty compared to DeRicci. But then slight, elegant women always made DeRicci feel like a gigantic oaf, and the feeling intensified when she was tired.

  She ate more onion rings. Only a few remained.

  “All right,” Goudkins said after a moment. “I’m curious enough and I want to know what the hell is going on. Besides, I really want to solve this thing. So I’ll help.”

  DeRicci wiped her mouth, then swallowed the last of the onion rings. Before she could say anything, Goudkins added,

  “I suppose I can’t tell Ostaka what I’m doing.”

  “You can’t tell anyone,” DeRicci said. “You work with me, and no one else.”

  “So mysterious,” Goudkins said.

  “Yeah.” DeRicci set the carton down. “You’ll understand why when I’m done.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  GUMIELA’S OFFICE WAS a lot neater than DeRicci’s, but it was a surface neatness. Nyquist had been in this office many times before, and it had been spotless. Now he saw cups behind Gumiela’s desk, tablets stacked on top of each other, and a blazer tossed over a chair.

  The pre-Anniversary Day Gumiela wouldn’t have allowed any of that. The fact that Gumiela’s office looked like this now simply meant that as chief of detectives, she had to cope with the occasional media presence here, and she didn’t want her office to look as scattered as she probably felt.

  If the media ever made it to DeRicci’s office, then everyone on the Moon would become even more terrified that things were out of control.

  Appearances did matter that much.

  And Nyquist was glad that they had little to do with him.

  Although, if he were honest with himself, one reason he never got enhancements to get rid of the scars left by the Bixian assassins was simply to let everyone know at first glance that he was a man who didn’t care about appearances.

  (And, DeRicci had said to him one afternoon, the fact that you want to show people at a glance that you don’t care about appearances means that appearances are a lot more important to you than you’re willing to let on.)

  He knew that appearances were important to Gumiela. She always wore a suit jacket over a dress or with a skirt and blouse. Today’s skirt showed off her marvelous legs. Her shoes had become practical in the last six months—she’d done a lot of walking and investigating on her own now, and she couldn’t wear shoes that accented her look. She had to wear something comfortable.

  She wore her hair up, probably because it was easier, and what little makeup she had on merely covered the lines that were forming around her mouth and eyes.

  It looked like nothing could cover the shadows beneath those eyes, however.

  “You haven’t been here since the meeting yesterday,” Gumiela said without a hello. “You want to tell me why?”

  “Following a lead,” he said.

  “At the Reception Center?”

  He cursed silently. He hadn’t wanted her to know where he had been.

  “I have some business there,” he said.

  “You know we’ve received injunctions from S3—”

  “Yeah,” he said, “and I didn’t violate them.”

  “I hope not,” she said, and leaned against her desk. It seemed like all the strength leached out of her, “because our relationship with S3 is about to get even dicier.”

  He tensed. He had hoped this wouldn’t happen when he went to see Uzvaan, but he had known it would be a risk.

  “What happened?” he asked, cringing inside. He hoped that reaction didn’t show on his face.

  She sighed and her dark eyes met his. For once, he couldn’t read her mood. Exasperation? Anger? Sadness? Everything mixed together, maybe with a little fear added in?

  “The coroner just registered a body,” she said quietly. “It’s Torkild Zhu.”

  Nyquist frowned. He didn’t know any Torkild Zhu, although the name sounded familiar.

  And then the name connected.

  It belonged to that overdressed attorney from the day before, the one who had arrived after the division-wide meeting and slapped injunctions against dealing with the Peyti clones all over the department.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Nyquist said.

  She shook her head. Her gaze held his a moment longer.

  “Tell me it was natural causes.”

  “Brodeur says he was beaten to death.” She spoke quietly.

  Her gaze hadn’t left his face. Nyquist let his shock show.

  Then he blinked, and realized exactly what she said. “Brodeur was the coroner on this?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “He’s not the best we have,” Nyquist said.

  “No,” she said. “Which he knows, and he believes that someone sent him deliberately.”

  Nyquist frowned. He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Why would someone do that?” Nyquist asked.

  “Because there’s evidence, at least according to Brodeur, that we know the killers.”

  Nyquist could tell she was choosing her words carefully.

  “How well do we know them?” he asked.

  “Brodeur thinks they were cops,” she said softly.

  Nyquist sank into a chair. Now he understood why Gumiela had sent for him. He had warned her just yesterday that the attitude among the detectives was dangerous. But he had thought the danger would be against the Peyti clones—that they would die or be injured in custody, and the investigators would lose their best resources for solving the overall crisis on the Moon
.

  That had been before S3 had shown up with its injunctions.

  Before Zhu had shown up with S3’s injunctions.

  “You believe him,” Nyquist said.

  Gumiela’s gaze left his, and in that simple movement he saw her answer. Yes, she believed Brodeur.

  “I’m going to give you what we have,” she said. “I want you to investigate this. I want you to document everything you find, and then I want you to report to me.”

  “Won’t I need a partner?”

  “You should have one,” Gumiela said, “but if Brodeur is right, then you might end up with an assistant who has a personal interest in this case.”

  She paused, as if she had an idea that struck her hard.

  “You don’t have a personal interest in this case yourself, do you?”

  He let out a half laugh. “You know me better than that, Andrea. I don’t kill because I dislike someone or because I hate what they stand for.”

  Besides, he thought, I’m the one who warned you about the mood in the division.

  “I know that,” she said. “We wouldn’t even be having this discussion if I thought you were that kind of man. What I’m asking is this: is there anyone in the division you would bend the rules for? Is there anyone whose involvement you would cover up?”

  As Gumiela asked that question, DeRicci’s image flashed across his mind. Then, oddly, Flint’s. Clearly, there were people he would deal with on his own if he thought they were acting in an extra-judicial manner, but none of them were on the force.

  Any longer, anyway.

  “In the division,” he repeated. “That’s what you’re asking?”

  “What about in life?” Gumiela asked.

  He paused. Truthful or not?

  He decided on the truth, partly because he wanted Gumiela to deem him unsuitable and assign someone else to this hellish case.

  “I think we all have someone in our lives we’d bend the rules for,” he said quietly.

  She leaned back just a little, then a half smile crossed her face. He thought he recognized the look: Gumiela had just thought of the person she would bend the rules for.

  “In the division, then,” she said. “Is there anyone you would bend the rules for?”

  “No,” he said, wishing he could convincingly lie about that too. But he couldn’t, particularly if Gumiela had asked him to come up with a name of someone he would protect.

  She took a deep breath.

  “All right then,” she said. “You’re going to make this your top priority. You will report directly to me and tell no one what you’re working on. You will consider me and Brodeur your partners in this, and if you need help, you’ll contact one of us.”

  “He’s an incompetent jerk,” Nyquist said.

  “He’s actually not incompetent,” Gumiela said. “He’s just not as smart as most of our other coroners. And he’s an asshole, so no one really gives him a chance. They undercut him whenever they can.”

  “You want me to take someone who gets undercut as a partner on a case that might have the department facing some high-powered attorney from S3?” Nyquist asked.

  “At the moment, we’re stuck with Brodeur,” Gumiela said. “If you find out that the accusations are true, and if you figure out who the perpetrators are, then we might be able to bring someone else in—someone we trust or someone from outside of Armstrong—to double-check Brodeur’s work. But at the moment, we’ll make do.”

  “Can’t we put this off until the crisis is over?” Nyquist asked. He really wanted to see Uzvaan again. Nyquist didn’t want to waste time on investigating this murder at all.

  “I’d love to,” Gumiela said. “And you know what? I probably would, if it weren’t for S3. They would have been a pain in our behind even if this murder hadn’t happened. The fact that it has is just going to make everything worse. I’m hoping to head off the worst of it.”

  “I think it became too late for that when their representative on the Moon got murdered,” Nyquist said.

  “You’re probably right,” Gumiela said. “We just didn’t need more on our plate, particularly with S3.”

  “No matter what, this isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Nyquist asked.

  “I can’t imagine how,” she said. “I really can’t imagine how.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  DERICCI LET OUT a long, oniony breath. She didn’t care if it grossed Goudkins out. Or maybe she did.

  DeRicci stood up.

  Once she trusted Goudkins, there was no going back.

  Goudkins closed the lid on her food carton and leaned back in the chair in the center of DeRicci’s office. DeRicci resisted the urge to look at the door. She hoped Popova wouldn’t interrupt them again.

  “One of our people,” DeRicci said, slowly, giving herself half a minute to back out if she changed her mind, “found a name.”

  “A name?” Goudkins asked.

  DeRicci nodded. She glanced at Goudkins. Goudkins sat primly, legs crossed at the ankles, but her hands had tightened around the food carton. She wanted to know this. She clearly wanted answers as well.

  “This name is directly tied to PierLuigi Frémont’s DNA. This person isn’t selling the DNA, but she’s the only person that we have found who has access to something this pure.”

  “You’re being deliberately mysterious,” Goudkins said. “Either you trust me or you don’t.”

  DeRicci actually liked the irritation. She decided to ignore it, however, and take her own time on this, tell Goudkins her own way.

  “We checked everywhere,” DeRicci said. “As one of our sources said, criminal organizations could make a fortune selling Frémont slow-grow DNA right now, only no one has it. No one knows where the clones came from, and no one is offering clones or the DNA for sale.”

  “You’re certain?” Goudkins asked.

  “Yes,” DeRicci said.

  “Why don’t you go after this person?” Goudkins asked. “You clearly have resources that are not just Moon-based.”

  DeRicci had never thought of her “sources” as non-Moon based. In truth, they were Moon-based, just with different access. However, she liked that Goudkins had made that assumption. It made DeRicci’s life a little easier.

  DeRicci continued, “This woman is high up in the Earth Alliance. She has a security clearance so tight that no one I know can access any information about her.”

  “Not even the vaunted Miles Flint?” Goudkins asked with just a little sarcasm.

  “Not even Miles,” DeRicci said. “Not that I would ask him to do so. I’m afraid if any of us here on the Moon start looking at this woman, we’re going to unleash something new.”

  “If she’s indeed guilty,” Goudkins said.

  “Yes,” DeRicci said. “And if she is guilty, she’ll be expecting inquiries from people based on the Moon.”

  “But not from within the Alliance?” Goudkins asked.

  DeRicci inclined her head. It was a good point, and one she had considered.

  “I think you might have the option to hide your search, while we can’t,” DeRicci said.

  Goudkins frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” DeRicci said, stifling a burp. Great. The delicious onion rings hadn’t agreed with her. “I trust that you people have the ability to investigate each other, for promotions and other things, right? Or am I wrong about that?”

  Goudkins put her food carton on the table. “You’re right. You want me to hide my inquiries as a standard job investigation?”

  DeRicci returned to her chair and sat back down. “Or a promotion request. Or a lateral transfer. Find out everything you can about this woman.”

  “If she works inside the Alliance,” Goudkins said, “I doubt her résumé will state that she sells Frémont DNA as a sideline.”

  “She doesn’t,” DeRicci said. “Several people have made inquiries of her—”

  “From the Moon?” Goudkins asked.

  “No,” DeRicci said. “Al
l sorts of criminal types, including the Black Fleet and an old partner of hers, have tried to get the DNA from her. It’s my understanding that she has rebuffed them all.”

  Goudkins frowned. “Why would she do that?”

  “That’s what you get to find out,” DeRicci said.

  “All right,” Goudkins said. “Where does she work?”

  “She started in prisons,” DeRicci said. “I’m told she was onsite when Frémont died.”

  Goudkins let out a soft whistle. “That explains a lot.”

  “It does?” DeRicci asked.

  “It explains the timeline,” Goudkins said. “Frémont died over fifty years ago.”

  DeRicci nodded. “All right, that’s a start.”

  “Prisons,” Goudkins said. “Is she still in prisons?”

  DeRicci shrugged. “This is where it gets interesting. Her job position is high up in the Alliance, and it’s classified.”

  Goudkins let out a sound of disbelief. “I can’t investigate someone whose job is classified. That automatically makes her higher ranked than me.”

  “Are you sure about that?” DeRicci asked. “Because it’s my understanding that lots of lower-level positions are classified as a way to keep information contained and controlled.”

  Goudkins picked up one of the napkins and nervously wiped her hands. When she finished, she kept the napkin clutched in her left hand. “This is going to be very dangerous,” she said, more to herself than to DeRicci.

  “Yes, it is,” DeRicci said, “and that’s why I didn’t mention it in front of Ostaka. We have a good lead, and we can’t track it. But you’ll have to be very careful, and you can’t consult with anyone in the Alliance.”

  “Because you think this is Alliance based,” Goudkins said.

  “I don’t make assumptions,” DeRicci lied. “Every investigator needs to blaze her own path. But the evidence we find keeps pointing to some Alliance involvement.”

  “Why would the Alliance try to destroy itself?”

  “I don’t mean it that way,” DeRicci said. “I don’t think the Alliance knows what’s going on. I think there are things being done with Alliance resources that the Alliance would frown on if it knew.”