“You’ll have to forgive my colleague. Sometimes she forgets which side that is.”
“Not me,” Kenzy said. “I’m on the side that found the drugs, in case you’d fucking forgotten.”
The MoRo jolted and bounced heavily. Devis cackled. He had aimed for the rock and he was pleased that he had hit it just right. The chuckle – he thought of it as a chuckle, rather than a cackle – was largely for effect. Though, actually, he did love driving these monsters. “Having a good time, lads?” he asked his two increasingly nervous passengers. He glanced back into their pale faces. “Relax. No-one’s managed to turn one of these over, let alone break one. I am right about that, aren’t I David?”
On the communications screen Theroux shrugged. “You’ve come closer than anybody yet. The book has you as front runner, and your odds are shortening as we speak. So, listen, how much had they destroyed when you got to them?”
“Who knows? But there was enough left for us to fry their geeky arses. Dana’s got all the evidence we need in the other MoRo.”
“But squat about the pilot, huh?”
Devis gunned the motors harder. “I’ve asked them several times, but they’re very reluctant to talk about anything other than their rights. They’ve made a lot of pompous noise about their rights.”
“They do have them, Colin.”
Ahead, Devis caught sight of a crater that looked to be the sort of size, if he hit it square on, to stand the MoRo on its nose. That should convince them that he was reckless enough for what was coming. He wound up the speed still more, and said, “Yes in-fucking-deedy they do. Even scumbags that make designer drugs and sell them to groundsiders who are too thick to think: ‘I’m killing myself to make some fucker rich’…”
The front of the MoRo dropped away sickeningly, and for a moment Devis thought he had gone too far. He was frightened and exhilarated by the way everything tipped and the cabin juddered, wheels individually grinding and digging hard for traction. Then the machine bounced, rocked, lurched and righted itself. “Even scumbags like that have their rights.”
“Could be they’ll talk if you get them back here,” Theroux said and then corrected himself with elaborate speed, “when, I mean when you get them back here.”
Devis cackled again. “I think they’ll talk before then. I have a definite feeling that they’re going to open their hearts to me very soon. Isn’t that right, lads?”
Theroux leaned forward so that his face filled the screen, and he lowered his voice a little. “Okay, Colin. But try and make it look like an accident, will you? Paperwork’s a bitch if there’s a hitch.”
The smaller of the two men, the self-important little prat of an outpost controller whom Devis disliked on sight, said, “An accident? What do you mean, an accident?” He held up his hands so that the wrist-clamps he was wearing were in vision. “We’re helpless here.”
Devis ignored him. “What do you suggest?” he asked the screen cheerfully.
“The faulty backpack thing always plays well,” Theroux suggested.
“How about two faulty backpacks?” Devis’s fat smirk made it impossible to see his eyes on the screen.
He might not be scaring them, but he’s scaring the shit out of me, Theroux thought and said, “They do say troubles come in twos.”
“Threes,” an almost familiar voice said behind him. He turned round in his seat. Susan Caxton was possibly more gorgeous in the flesh than she was on WNS. “Trouble comes in threes, is what they say,” she said. Absurdly, Theroux was tongue-tied. He had no idea what to say to her. He almost blurted out some inanity about being a big fan and the word ‘autograph’ popped briefly into his mind. Luckily, Devis chose that moment to say, “I’ll call in when the shock’s worn off and I feel able to talk about it.”
“Later, Colin,” he said. He cancelled the link, and with his thoughts now collected, managed a really impressive, “Can I help you?” A coolly casual smile was still beyond him, though.
“My name is Susan Caxton,” she said, as if there was likely to be anybody who didn’t know that. “I assume that what I just heard was meant to be humorous?” The expression on her face suggested that there was something stinking up the place, and since she was looking directly at him, there wasn’t much doubt what she thought that was.
“Assume away, Ms. Caxton,” Theroux heard himself saying. “Isn’t that what you press people normally do?”
“You weren’t threatening the lives of two prisoners? That is that what they were?”
Theroux said, “We arrested two research chemists who have a sideline in drugs manufacture. They’ve been making a whole range of synthetics which have been smuggled back to Earth for sale.” He badly wanted to say and it’s none of your goddam business, you and Daniel and all the rest of your backstabbing breed. But he didn’t.
“And this is a justification for making them frightened for their lives?” she said, jutting her chin and squaring her shoulders slightly.
He tried not to notice how her breasts lifted and pushed against the unfastened top of her coveralls. Christ, he thought, it’s like a dime video-novel; Gee, Ms. Caxton, without your clothes on – why, you’re beautiful. He said, “Personally, I’d make them frightened for valued parts of their anatomy.” What? Say what? He could not believe that macho-fascist bullshit had just come out of his mouth. “Their lives would be the least of their problems,” he went on. Un-fucking-believable.
She said, “You clearly don’t subscribe to the idea that if you deny one man his rights, no man is safe.”
I don’t subscribe to crap aphorisms straight out of civics class is what he should have said, he realized. But instead, he said, “I have subscribed to one or two drug rehab centres, if that’s any help. What can I do for you, Ms. Caxton?”
“Directions?” she said. “I was looking for directions.”
“I’m good at those,” Theroux said. “And the time. If you want to know the time, I’m your man.” Hell, where did that come from? He was turning into a limey cop, with lame limey cop jokes. He considered smiling but decided it was too late.
Susan Caxton did not smile either. “There’s a Dr. Andrew Philpot somewhere on the base. Can you tell me where he is?”
“About an hour behind you, I would estimate,” Dana Cogill responded over the voice-only link from the following MoRo.
Devis switched all the motive systems to stop, and the MoRo settled down on its suspension. “Fine. Listen, love,” he said, hoping she was sharp enough to understand what was needed here, “if you should see any hitchhikers when you get to this position –”
“Sorry, didn’t copy that, say again, Colin; sounded like ‘hitchhikers’?”
“Hitchhikers, that’s correct. My passengers have decided to go for a bit of a walk. Think things over.”
“You’re miles from anywhere.”
“Okay, so it’s quite a lot of a walk. They’re slow thinkers.”
Behind Devis the two men stirred uneasily. “You’re bluffing,” the larger man said. “They’re bluffing,” he repeated to the little controller, who suddenly looked close to tears.
“The thing is,” Devis went on, “I don’t want you picking them up.”
There was a long pause, then Dana said, “Well now, I’m a properly educated Irish girl. I was taught never to accept or to give lifts.”
Devis’s smile was genuine, but no less chilling for that. “Right. These two are not the sort you’d want to travel with, anyway. Very poor conversationalists. They don’t seem to want to talk about any of the things I want to talk about. Very boring people.” He yawned expansively. “So you’ll leave them, then?”
“No problem, Colin. Even if they’re dying for a lift.”
Devis made a mental note to buy her a shuttle-repair Scotch for that one. He fished out the laser pisto
l from his equipment pouch. “Right lads,” he said, turning round and waving it at them, “let’s get you out of those incriminating restraints and into your hiking boots.”
“They couldn’t wait to tell him all about it,” Theroux said, grinning. “Refrain and two full choruses.” He was relishing the story and dragging out what he obviously thought were the highlights.
Nathan stayed silent and kept his face deliberately expressionless. If David Theroux really didn’t know that the line had been crossed with this, then all the present plans were looking shaky.
Theroux went on, “They swore the dead girl was just a freelance pilot who knew nothing about the drugs. And they never heard of Daniel Larwood’s dead man either. It’s sort of a major coincidence, but I guess they do happen. That’s why we’ve got a name for them, right?”
They reached the guest quarters and paused, looking for the allocation number. Nathan still said nothing.
“I realize,” Theroux said, “that I let things go a bit far. Cut some corners.”
“It could have cost us the case,” Nathan said flatly. “Still could. For Christ’s sake, David, confessions under duress?”
“Yeah I know,” Theroux said. “I know. But we can stand it up without the confessions. And we needed that information. You needed that information.”
“Not at any price.”
“It was a judgement call.”
“Yes.”
Theroux shrugged. “Okay, so I wasn’t brilliant. You’ve never made a mistake?”
“Not with a journalist standing directly behind me, I haven’t,” Nathan said, and allowed himself to smile. He was always relieved when his assessment of people was there or thereabouts, especially when he thought they were bright, and it turned out that they probably were. He pointed. “That’s his room there.”
Daniel Larwood opened the door to them and said, “Psychic policing, I’m impressed gentlemen.” He stood aside to let them in.
The ‘twin berth guest cabin’ was standard size, but Larwood was not sharing with anyone. Whoever had searched it had been just as destructive as the last time, but there was less debris than in the dead pilot’s room and it was spread out more.
“I’m the methodical type,” Larwood said, as he gestured round. “If I haven’t got anywhere to put something, I put it anywhere.”
“Why didn’t you report this?” Nathan asked.
Larwood said, “Petty thieving isn’t much of a story.” He began picking things up and throwing them towards the bunk.
“He meant to us,” Theroux said.
“You arrived before I had the chance.”
“And before you’d finished tidying up?” Nathan suggested.
Larwood offered no reaction. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Commander?” he asked.
Nathan said, “A couple more questions about the corpse you discovered.”
“I’ve told you all I know.”
“That’d be a first,” Theroux said.
“Did you know that there was no record of his arrival on Moonbase?” Nathan asked.
“How would I know that?” Larwood said.
Nathan picked up a coverall tunic from which the pockets had been ripped. He handed it to Larwood, and said conversationally, “In a manner of speaking, you found someone who wasn’t actually there.”
Larwood did not glance away but looked him directly in the eye, and smiling his rumpled smile, said, “Yesterday upon the stair; I met a man who wasn’t there; He wasn’t there again today; I wish that man would go away.”
“You met a man?” Theroux challenged.
Larwood said, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Anything missing?” Nathan asked.
“Nothing.”
“And you’ve no idea what they were after?”
“None.”
Nathan nodded. “The other two people to whom this has happened are being pretty close-mouthed about it as well. But then the dead tend to be.” Again Larwood was unperturbed. He was well in control of himself this time. This time, as far as Nathan could see, there were no signs of stress, and that in itself was suspicious; most people whose belongings had been turned over were unsettled at least by the arbitrary threat of it. “Death isn’t all they had in common,” he went on. “They shared one of these rooms, though neither of them was officially on Moonbase. They were even in the same line of work.” He caught Theroux’s eye and nodded a small nod, at the same time saying, “If you should think of anything you feel you want to tell us, Mr. Larwood, you know where the office is.”
“I do indeed,” Larwood said.
At the door, Theroux said, “Daniel and I have some unfinished business, Nathan. I’ll catch you later.”
As Nathan hopped with easy looping strides along the corridor, there was no doubt in his mind that Theroux had noticed Larwood’s failure to ask what line of work it was that the two dead visitors were in.
“Okay Daniel,” Theroux said, closing the door, “you just changed your mind.”
Larwood said, “I think it’s more likely that you just lost yours,” and continued to retrieve his belongings.
“With the Martian due at any time, you don’t want to leave the field completely clear for the delicious Ms. Caxton – or do you?”
“You haven’t got that kind of power, David.”
“I think I can make a strong enough case to get you sent Earthside before the story breaks.”
“Charge?”
Theroux went to the locker where Larwood was re-stowing his belongings, and pulled out one of the bottles of brandy. “Illegal possession of alcohol,” he said.
“You bastard.” Larwood seemed genuinely shocked.
Theroux thought, It was my fault, I gave you Gary Benson and the others because I was more impressed by you than by them and I wanted your friendship more than theirs, I risked them, you betrayed them, and what goes around comes around; and he said, “It finally gets to be my turn. Maybe there is a God.”
Larwood had recovered. “Still angry after all these years,” he said mockingly.
So not all-knowing then – because Theroux wasn’t angry, he was ashamed. “We deserved better, Daniel.”
“Get a grip, David, and grow up for Christ’s sake. You don’t get what you deserve in this life, you deserve what you get.”
Theroux thought: Fuck you, smartass, and said, “Good to know you’ll be philosophical about it. Getting kicked out of Moonbase I mean.”
Larwood said, “That boy’s suicide –”
“His name,” Theroux interrupted angrily, “was Gary Benson.” How long had he taken to remember that himself?
“His suicide was not your fault,” Larwood said.
My fault? It wasn’t my fault? “You sold us for a by-line,” he said, “and a start in your lousy career.”
Again the shrug and the rumpled grin. “I was a stranger in a strange land. I had to try harder.”
“You were more at home in my country than I was.”
Larwood opened the bottle and took a long swallow of brandy. He sighed. “David,” he said, “the world is what you think it is, how can it be anything else? Better make sure you think it’s something you can live with.”
Theroux took a small sudden hop and landed directly in front of Larwood. He was close enough to smell the brandy on Larwood’s breath, but leaned closer still and glared into his eyes. “Try living with this,” he said, harshly. “I want to know what you know about the dead man, and I want to know it now, you hypocritical piece of shit.”
An image? Killing each other over images? Could that really be all it was about? “He was peddling a picture of the Martian,” Nathan said. “And Larwood believed that?” It sounded unlikely, but Theroux’s judgement of Larwood was the bes
t he had to hand.
Theroux said, “He couldn’t pass up the chance that it might not be a hoax.”
Nathan added the information to the model he was playing with, and let his workstation run crime scenarios. None of them made any sense. “Is he capable of killing, do you think?” he asked.
“Not face to face,” Theroux said sourly.
“Not if he’d been lured somewhere quiet to be robbed?”
“Daniel would fight for a good story, but he wouldn’t lift a finger over property, his own or anyone else’s.” He watched Nathan’s obvious dissatisfaction with what he was getting from the computer, and said, “Why don’t you give it to Box?”
“I’m just doodling.”
“So doodle with something that might come up with the answer.”
“Answers are easy. Asking the right questions is the tricky part, and there isn’t a computer made that’s any damn good for that. What else did you get from Larwood?”
“How do you know I got anything else?”
Nathan shrugged. “Because you’ve been waiting to tell me. Get on with it, will you?”
Theroux shook his head and sighed. “You can be a bit spooky, you know that.”
“Trust me, David, that’s one of my least threatening traits.”
“Turns out the guy was still alive.”
“He was still alive when Larwood got to him? Did he say anything?”
“Nothing that made any sense. All Daniel heard was just ‘I de-’… something.”
“And Larwood didn’t know what this something was?”
“Could have been any fucking thing. I desire, demand, denounce, declare. I de was as far as he got.”
“Is that it? All the evidence your friend was withholding?”
Star Cops Page 48
