Ignoring the question, Nathan poured two mugs of coffee and went back into the living area, leaving Theroux with no choice but to follow.
“If the figures are accurate,” Nathan was saying, “then suit failure should be zero, near as makes no odds.”
Theroux sipped his coffee. It was better. Why the hell was that? “But it’s not,” he said. “Two percent of the suits develop faults, pretty much the same as always. And people are killed.”
Nathan smiled a small, thoughtful smile. “Supposing for the sake of argument,” he said, “the Russians have put in a lot of extra effort. Supposing their numbers are right. It’d be ironic if all they’d achieved was to let someone fake an accident anywhere they chose without alarming the computers.”
Theroux looked doubtful. “Why would someone want to do that?”
“Motive should be the easy part,” said Nathan, “but it never seems to be.” His smile broadened. “Still, if it’s difficult for us, it’s bloody impossible for a computer.”
“Besides which,” said Theroux, “why should the unpublished stuff the Russians showed you be any more reliable than the published stuff they showed everybody else?”
“They didn’t exactly show it to me.”
“You hacked in? You know that’s illegal.”
“It’s a moot point.”
“Moot my ass. Where I come from that’s called Grand Theft: Data. Mandatory one-to-five.”
“My machine is self-selecting: it could be seen as a system malfunction.”
“Only if you straightened the judge.”
“Box?” said Nathan. On the corner of the workstation, Box flickered indicator lights.
“Did you book the restaurant?”
“The Taj Mahal, for three, twenty hundred hours.”
“Lee?”
“Lee Jones will meet you there.”
“Thank you, Box.” The indicator lights flickered off again in response to the ‘thank you close down’ code.
“As I said that’s an impressive piece of kit.”
“Yes,” said Nathan. “You do like Indian food, I suppose?”
The principal design difference between the Lotus Garden and the Taj Mahal was the wallzac. As might be expected from the name, the screens in the Taj Mahal were showing video loops of the famously beautiful mausoleum which stood in Agra, Uttar Pradesh –
“ – until Sikh militants destroyed it in retaliation for the bombing of the Golden Temple at Amritsar. The Taj Mahal was built in the seventeenth century by the Mogul emperor Shah Jahan as a memorial to his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.”
“Thank you, Box,” said Nathan, and returned it to his pocket. “I hope you’re taking notes, there will be a quiz at the end of the meal.”
“You could become sort of dependant on Box, don’t you think?” asked Theroux smiling.
“Creepy bloody thing,” said Lee. “Do you know, at a pinch, I think it could supply all his needs. In the way of companionship, I mean. Well, almost all his needs.” She smiled at Nathan and, to Theroux’s surprise, he blushed a little.
To break the moment of slightly awkward silence that followed, Theroux said, “It’s been a while since I had a chance to eat with a knife and fork.”
“Is that what you miss out there?” asked Nathan. “Food laid out flat, with random lumps?”
“After a while,” Theroux said with a sigh, “you forget what you do miss. Trees; beautiful women; cruet sets that don’t have to be strapped to the table.”
“Of course if you want to be really authentic, you’re only supposed to use bread to eat this meal,” Lee said.
Theroux grinned. “I’m ready to sacrifice a little authenticity for a lot of convenience,” he said.
Lee looked round that part of the restaurant which was not obscured by the table’s wallzac screens. “Do you know, this is the first time Nathan’s ever brought me here? I love Indian food too.”
“I’m not real familiar with it,” Theroux said. “My culinary adventures sort of stopped at Chinese.”
“You should have said. There’s a place called the Lotus Garden we use. Nathan insists that dives serve the best food. We eat there a lot. Don’t we?” She glanced at Nathan, but he was staring towards the doorway and frowning. She followed the direction of his look and saw that Brian Lincoln had just come in and was talking to the waiter who was pointing towards their table.
Rising, Nathan said, “I’d better see what he wants. Excuse me for a moment, will you?”
“So this Lotus Garden is what you might call your special place, is it?” said Theroux politely, as Nathan walked unhurriedly away to where Lincoln was waiting.
Lee chuckled softly. “Oh my lord, you’re a romantic. I thought they were extinct even among Americans. Our special place? I don’t think that would even occur to Nathan. We’ll suggest it to him when he comes back. Maybe it’ll improve his mood…”
On the other side of the restaurant, Nathan’s mood was not being improved. “We’ve already released her,” Lincoln was saying, “I thought you should know, but I couldn’t exactly call you about it. Not on the office circuit, anyway.”
“Why wasn’t I consulted?” demanded Nathan, though he already knew the answer.
“You’re on attachment to the ISPF. It’s not your case anymore.”
“There wouldn’t be a fucking Carmodie case if it wasn’t for me.”
“That’s true. But the point is, it doesn’t look as though she did it after all.”
“Of course she did it.”
“The psych department report says they can’t be certain about her.”
“Psych department reports,” Nathan said with exaggerated patience, “always say they can’t be certain about anything, Brian, you know that. That’s why we don’t rely on them.”
“The Commander took personal charge, and he decided that the balance of evidence –”
Nathan interrupted him. “Since when does that prat know anything about evidence?”
“Yeah, well there was some new evidence that’s only just been made available. It does seem to clear her.”
Lee watched Nathan coming back to the table. His face was expressionless and pale. “I get the feeling it wasn’t good news,” she said.
As he sat down Nathan said, “The bastard is trying to discredit me.”
“This would be the Commander-bastard I imagine?” asked Lee, and Theroux saw Nathan relax and then smile at her. These people are close, he thought, closer than maybe even they realize.
“Nice of Brian to tip you off,” she went on. “So what’s the plot this time?”
Before he could answer, Nathan’s muffled voice began to call from his jacket pocket.
“Nathan? Nathan?”
He gave a small apologetic shrug and put Box on the table. “Yes, Box?”
Cleared to continue by the ‘yes’ command, Box said, “A news item of the category you specified is broadcasting on Worldwide News. Susan Caxton is the news reader.”
“It is a space story, more or less,” said Nathan. “Box, put the Worldwide News feed onto this wallzac screen.”
From other tables in the restaurant there were mutterings of surprise and irritation as Box overrode the main video output, and replaced bland images of tourist India with huge and equally artificial pictures of Lars Hendvorrsen. Sitar music was abruptly interrupted and Susan Caxton, at her most dramatic, spieled from every screen speaker:
“The Russians give no details apart from the name – Svetlana Tereshcova. We understand, however, that Ms. Tereshcova is a senior engineer and mother of two. Once identified as the technician responsible for servicing the spacesuit Lars Hendvorrsen was wearing when he died, Ms. Tereshcova was immediately arrested and charged with murder-by-negligence. This carri
es a possible death sentence when space-related, and we have it from a reliable source that if found guilty Ms. Tereshcova will be executed. This is Worldwide News; more after this break…”
“Box, reset wallzac.”
Without a flicker, the screens returned to normal, leaving some people unsure whether what they had seen was real or imaginary.
Nathan said, “I was afraid they might be panicked into some sort of stunt.”
A waiter arrived with the first dishes of food and many and humble apologies for the circuit fault in the wallzac which had never happened before and which he absolutely guaranteed would never happen again.
“How does it affect your investigation?” asked Lee, when he had gone.
“Makes it pretty much irrelevant,” said Theroux. “If they find her guilty, then everyone’s off the hook, right?”
“Wrong,” said Nathan. “Until our investigation is finished, nobody is off the hook.”
Lee frowned. “Will the Russians wait for you?”
“Hell, no, they won’t wait for us,” Theroux said firmly. “If they were planning to wait, why bother with the press release? Looks like Boris’s Backpack Repair Shop have got the ‘business as usual’ signs up.”
Once again, Nathan’s opinion of the American’s intelligence went up.
“That poor woman,” Lee said.
Nathan nodded. “They arrest one who’s probably innocent, and we release one who’s undoubtedly guilty.”
“Excuse me?” asked Theroux.
“They released that poor Carmodie woman?” said Lee.
“It’s only temporary,” Nathan said.
Lee’s disapproval was obvious. “This from the man who says he’s not out to get her,” she remarked.
Nathan smiled coldly. “She’ll keep,” he said. “Lets hope the same can be said for Svetlana Tereshcova.”
Chapter 9
He had said goodbye to Lee at the airport. She had insisted on seeing them off on the first leg of the journey to the orbit station, the flight to Kourou.
It had been a strange parting. Lee had behaved as though he was leaving her for good; not that he was never coming back, but that he was never coming back to her.
“Take care of yourself,” she had said. “Just because you’re a Star Cop, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”
“I’m not a Star Cop,” he had told her.
“Slip of the tongue.”
“I am a fully trained spaceman though, with several days experience.”
“Imagine. And I knew you when you got sick in express lifts and giddy on ladders.”
“I shan’t be gone long,” he had said.
“No.”
“When I get back, we’ll sort everything out.”
“It’s a long way to get back from,” she had said.
He had put his arms round her. “This doesn’t change anything.”
She had said, “No. I realize that now.”
He had kissed her. She had kissed him back – but, like their lovemaking the previous night, it didn’t bring them closer. “I promise it doesn’t,” he had repeated.
“Don’t make promises, Nathan. Find some other way to reassure yourself.”
“You’re being enigmatic, Lee. You know that always makes me nervous.”
“Take care of yourself, love,” she had said. “Try to remember not to look down.”
As he and Theroux were going through airport security, he had glanced back but she had already gone. He had thought about her throughout the flight to Kourou. He should have been thinking about the case.
Waiting for lift-off had been no better than before, even though Theroux had tried to distract him with determined and confident conversation.
“But if all you’ve got against this Carmodie dame is the cash, and it turns out that she gave back the same notes she borrowed – the same numbers and everything – where does that leave you?”
“Wondering why anyone would know the numbers.”
“People take numbers when they can’t think of anything else to check…” Theroux had said, his voice faltering briefly, as though he might have been remembering something.
Nathan had intended to ask him about that, but the final countdown had been a distraction, and afterwards the inevitable nausea had made it irrelevant. And now here he was, back in the cramped police office of the Charles De Gaulle. His personal life, his career, the survival of a woman he had never met; all depended on his finding the reason for Lars Hendvorrsen’s death, and finding it quickly.
“Back so soon?” said the voice behind him, the tone amused but not unfriendly. Nathan turned and nodded a greeting to Simon Butler, who was standing in the doorway smiling.
“You have to begin at the beginning,” Nathan said.
“Very profound,” said Butler. “Not always easy to spot where that is surely?”
“When you’ve got nothing else, you go to where it happened.”
Butler grinned. “If you’re planning to look for footprints, you’re going to have a thin time.”
“You’d be surprised the traces people leave.”
“Not out there.” Butler made a vague gesture towards the outer wall of the station.
“I wasn’t planning to go outside,” said Nathan.
“David told me you weren’t a fool. Didn’t you?” he said, moving aside to let Theroux past him and into the office.
“Snooping, Simon?” asked Theroux.
“Nothing is secret from your friendly neighbourhood traffic controller, David,” he said cheerfully.
“Yeah but eavesdropping in doorways is sort of tacky wouldn’t you say?”
Still grinning, Butler said, “You may be right,” and moved off down the link tube, walking with that confident and well-practised ease which Nathan doubted he would ever master, no matter how much weightless time he logged.
When Butler was finally out of earshot, Theroux said, with an air of barely suppressed excitement, “I’ve been doing some checking.”
Nathan took out Box, and clamped it to the side of the equipment console. “Yes?” he said.
“I thought over what you told me. About how I should have investigated the rumours of corruption? I guess you were right. So that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Better late than never.”
Theroux ignored the jibe. He was too pleased with himself and his discovery to be put down by what he had come to think of as Nathan’s habitual sarcasm. “I’ve been looking at the personnel records of the main off-Earth purchasing agencies,” he went on, “and correlating individual wealth with equipment contracts, that sort of thing?”
Nathan nodded. “And you found Miller,” he said, matter-of-factly. Theroux’s disappointment showed, though he did his best to hide it. It was almost a pity to spoil his moment of triumph. At least he was thinking now, but it was too little too late…
Theroux said, “You know about him?”
“I found Miller too.”
“He’s been robbing his department blind.”
“He would have been if he was real, but he’s not. He’s part of the security set-up.”
“Fuck! You mean he’s a system check.” If kicking the furniture had made any sense in a weightless environment, Theroux would have done it.
Nathan said, “Their computer always generates at least two theoretical villains and sets them running around in the system somewhere. If the audit and security people don’t spot them within a time limit, the machine registers a loophole and triggers the alarms.”
Theroux said, “I know how it works.”
“You should have been expecting something of the sort then,” Nathan said. “And they’ve added an extra fail-safe. While they’re redesigning to plug
the loophole, every last employee gets a triple A check just to be on the safe side.”
“A self-refining system. Pretty much foolproof, huh?” It struck Theroux that Box must have found all this shit out, and if the guy knew it all already he could have saved him some time.
“It’s beatable,” Nathan was saying, “they’re all beatable. Probably have to be a one-off, though. Regular bribes to look the other way? I don’t think so.”
“If you knew it all already, you could have saved me some time,” Theroux said.
“I’m not a mind-reader. You didn’t tell me that’s what you were doing.” He looked towards Box. “Box, I want you to run a triple A personnel check for this and every other off-Earth station.” Then he looked again at Theroux. “I got the feeling there were some different numbers you were going to check.”
“What different numbers?”
Nathan took a wild guess. “Suit components?” he suggested.
Theroux was startled. “How did you know that?”
Nathan smiled. “It’s called a detective’s nose,” he said and almost believed it himself.
Box said, “A full database check? All personnel?”
“Yes please, Box,” Nathan confirmed. “And I want to know where everyone was at the time of each of the suit-related deaths in the last eighteen months.”
“The computer did that already,” Theroux said. “It’s a totally routine procedure.”
“Totally routine procedures always have weaknesses,” said Nathan. “In this case the computer did what it always does and it treated each death individually.”
“Death strikes me as pretty much of an individual sort of thing,” Theroux said.
“The computer,” said Nathan, “asked where everyone was when the death occurred, at the location where the death occurred.”
“Yeah.”
“It didn’t ask where everyone at every other location was.”
“These are isolated places. You don’t just walk from one to the other.”
Star Cops Page 14
