Cabal of Lies

by Michael Anderle

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  August 12, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Apartment of Malcolm Constantine

  Malcolm smiled and tapped the access panel on the door to his apartment. The door slid open with a hiss, and he gestured inside grandly.

  A little showmanship might help him with Camila. The dinner had gone well, but she was hard to read. He could never be sure if she was chuckling because she found his jokes funny or if she was laughing at him for thinking he was funny.

  He bowed over his arm. “My kingdom, Lady Camila. Not the grandest kingdom, but I defend it with my dignity and my life.”

  Camila strolled into his living room, the corner of her mouth turned up in a half-smirk. Her dark makeup and dress continued to give her the vibe he’d been obsessing over all night: sexy witch. He wouldn’t mind if she cast a spell on him.

  She reached up to pull out a hairpin, and her long dark hair fell over her shoulders.

  That had to mean something. Malcolm just wasn’t sure what.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” she commented. “I just wanted to get a little more comfortable.”

  “No. You look nice either way,” Malcolm tried not to smirk like an idiot but failed miserably. Well, technically, he had done a splendid job of smirking like an idiot.

  It’d been a long time since he’d had a woman at his place.

  He’d never thought she would agree to come over after their first date, which was probably why he’d thought she might not be impressed with his tiny apartment. It lacked even a couch in the living room. His smirk turned to a grimace. Why had he even suggested coming back to his place?

  Camila’s absurdly high heels clacked on the floor as she strolled deeper into the apartment. She spun, her ruffled skirt bouncing with the movement. “I just want to check on something.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t get robbed when we were at dinner?” Camila asked. “I mean, those prices were robbery for that quality of food.” She motioned around the living room. “But people usually have more furniture in their living rooms. This is the definition of spartan living.” She eyed him. “Or is there some deep philosophical reason behind it?”

  Malcolm sighed, taking it in. “No. I just don’t spend a lot of time at my place, and no one ever comes over. Sorry about the restaurant. I kind of thought it was expensive, but I wasn’t about to complain about the prices on a date.”

  “Not your fault. I picked the place. I wasn’t trying to be a greedy bitch, though.” Camila folded her arms and stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she eyed him. “And you in a nice shirt and slacks rather than your Captain Hawaii get-up is nice. I like the quirkiness, but it’s lovely to see you have range. You clean up well, Malcolm.”

  “Thanks, Camila. I know I said it like five times tonight, but you look great.” Malcolm managed a genuine smile. Trading compliments with a pretty woman was in his wheelhouse. As long as he kept it classic and honest, she wouldn’t nail him over a bad joke.

  “You know why I asked you out, Malcolm?” Camila asked.

  “Uh, because I’m a nice guy who is funny?” He shrugged. He wasn’t the athletic type compared to half the cops in the department, let alone muscular mountains like Erik.

  “Because I respect talent.” Camila lowered her arm and strolled toward him, the clack of her heels almost hypnotic. She closed on him until she was right in front of him and draped her arms around his neck. “You’re very talented at what you do.”

  “I-I like to think so,” Malcolm sputtered. Were they still talking about his job?

  “I’m not just saying that. You have incredible data analysis and systems skills, and they’re wasted in your current position.” Camila sighed, the air from the exhalation tickling Malcolm’s face.

  “What do you mean?” Malcolm asked. “How are they wasted?”

  “It’s not like being a tech for the police department pays a lot, and your level of talent could be applied better than helping a bunch of cops dig through records.” Camila kissed him lightly on the lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

  “It?” Malcolm’s heart pounded. His entire body was on fire. “Of course, I have. You’re a very attractive woman.”

  Camila snickered and stepped away, slowly running a hand down his chest. “That’s not what I was talking about, but I appreciate the compliment. I know I’m not going to win ‘Hottest Coroner.’” She burst out laughing. “Then again, maybe I will.”

  Malcolm chuckled, feeling far more confident now. He didn’t have to be an expert on body language to know she was totally into him.

  He didn’t want to push this too fast. Camila was the kind of woman with whom he could have a serious relationship. However, that necessitated him not being an idiot about her presence in his apartment.

  He was just about to offer a witty come-back when he frowned. “Wait, what were you talking about? What do you mean, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it?’”

  “The private sector, of course,” Camila clarified. “With your skill set, you could have your pick of companies and make much more than you make with the NSCPD. And have far greater job satisfaction, too.”

  “Oh, a job?” Malcolm blinked, his combination of desire and confusion impairing his ability to think straight. “What about you, then? I mean, you make more than I do, but couldn’t you do better in the private sector as a doctor?”

  Camila nodded. “Sure, but I have my reasons for working in the police department. Call it a matter of curiosity.”

  “That’s kind of my thing, too.” Malcolm nodded, feeling like the conversation was back on track. “I’ve always felt like I’d make more of a difference in public service. More money would be nice, but money isn’t everything.”

  Camila gestured around the apartment. “It’s something.”

  “This place isn’t sparsely furnished because of money. Mostly.” Malcolm chuckled, but it came out a bit strangled.

  “You’re telling me you’ve never thought how your life might change if you became rich? Doesn’t everyone think about it if they aren’t already?” Camila walked back over to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Money is freedom. If you want to help people, you could do it in a different way, rather than focusing on crime and suffering. That’s got to get to you after a while.” She gave his arm a comforting squeeze. “And with the department not looking the other way as much anymore, you’re having to confront serious crime head-on.”

  Malcolm sighed. “It gets to me some days. You’re right. That’s why I try to keep an upbeat attitude. What about you, though? You have to examine dead bodies. Victims.”

  “Oh, I don’t get along with people anyway.” Camila grinned. “Dead people are less annoying, and a macabre sense of humor helps.”

  “You seem so lively now. You’re…” Malcolm offered a quick grin after trailing off. He didn’t want to insult her, but he was surprised by how different she’d acted on their date.

  She hadn’t consumed any alcohol, so he couldn’t attribute her personality change to that. The cold, distant persona at work might just have been part of her way of coping with the darkness that came with being a coroner.

  “Is something wrong?” Camila guided her hand down his arm until she reached his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I hope I didn’t offend you with the money stuff. It’s just, I hate seeing talented people undercompensated. It’s like seeing an artist not live up to their potential.”

  “I’m doing what I want to do,” Malcolm insisted. “Aren’t you? I mean, you deal with so many body simulations in med school that the whole corpse thing probably doesn’t faze you, does it?”

  “A person can get used to anything with enough exposure and time.” After another squeeze, Camila let go of his hand. “Let me put it a different way. What if I told you I could get you a lot more money? Enough so you would never have to work again? Then, and only then, would you know if you truly want to be a digital forensic
s tech, or if it’s just something you’re doing because you’ve fallen into it.”

  Malcolm laughed and wondered if he should take her hand. “That would be an interesting experiment, but it’s not like someone’s going to deed me an HTP anytime soon, so does it really matter? I like my job and the people I work with.”

  Camila smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There was something cold and almost hostile about the look. It was like she had flipped a switch.

  Malcolm blinked and stepped back. “Is something wrong?”

  “You know the true measure of a man, Malcolm?” she asked, all warmth gone from her voice. Even the faint mirth that infused her quips at work was absent.

  “How he treats his mother?” Malcolm suggested.

  “No.” Camila lifted her hand and stared at her black nails. She turned them back and forth a few times before talking. “It’s easy to be an angel in heaven.”

  “True?” Malcolm shrugged. He had no idea how she’d gone from hot witch almost ready to kiss him to weird thought experiments and discussions of morality.

  “I’ve checked you out,” Camila explained, lowering her hand. “You were a smart kid who became a smart adult. You kept your nose clean, and you applied yourself. You’ve never been involved in any trouble. Never even brushed shoulders with anyone who could remotely be called antisocial.”

  “You did a background check on me?” Malcolm frowned. He wasn’t sure that was reasonable. It made vague sense that a woman might want to ensure the quirky guy at work wasn’t a secret killer, but his employment with the police department should have implied he had no criminal record.

  It was, at minimum, a little insulting.

  “I like to know who I’m dealing with, yes. You don’t have a lot of friends at the station, I’ve noticed, despite having a pleasant personality.”

  “I like to keep to myself.” Malcolm shrugged. “It’s not a crime. Besides, you’ve been there long enough to see what’s up. The cops mostly hang with other cops. That’s just the way it is.”

  Camila snorted. “But they need us, don’t they? It never makes you mad that they get all the glory when we’re doing a lot of the work in the background to help prove their cases?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I just want the bad guys in jail, or on a ship to some planet far, far away. I didn’t join the department to get a bunch of news stories written about me. I wouldn’t even know what to do if I became famous.” He tapped a finger on his chest as he thought it out. “It would be kind of annoying.”

  “Not like Blackwell and Lin, huh?” Camila rolled her eyes. “Two glory hogs—some broken-down old vet wearing a young man’s face and a corp princess playing at being a cop. I’m sure they go home and high-five each other after every interview.”

  Malcolm took a deep breath. He had been ecstatic when Camila asked him out, and he wouldn’t deny he was attracted to her style and her normal personality, but it was like the last few minutes had revealed a totally different woman. Now he had a simple choice, one that might end any chance he had of being with her.

  “That’s not fair,” he replied.

  “What’s not fair?” she asked.

  Malcolm frowned. “Detectives Blackwell and Lin aren’t like that. They aren’t media whores. If you knew them, you’d know they hate that kind of thing. They just want to do their jobs, and they both…” He shook his head. “You just don’t know them.”

  Camila snickered. “Listen to yourself. It’s pathetic.” She gestured at him. “They’re not even your friends. You know how I can tell? Because you call them by their ranks and last names. You’re a fan, nothing more.”

  “I respect them, and they respect me. That’s all I need.”

  Camila locked eyes with him as if she were searching for something. He stared back defiantly. If he had to choose between a sexy witch and his friends, he’d choose his friends.

  “So, in summary,” she began, “you want a job that lets you help people, but you don’t care about money, and you don’t resent that people around you get more credit?”

  Malcolm nodded. “That’s pretty accurate. You can find that pathetic all you want, but I like who I am.”

  Camila licked her lips. “I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Camila walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I came here tonight to offer you a chance to make a lot of money on the side. I’m still going to offer it to you because I believe in your talent.”

  “I don’t need extra pay if you need help with data analysis in the coroner’s office,” Malcolm explained, now completely confused.

  “Nothing like that. These are private jobs with private pay. They’ll just require you to help me with a few little instances of data recovery and manipulation in the department systems.” Camila tightened her grip on his shoulder. “If you don’t care about money, then you should care about your job and avoiding prison.”

  “Huh? Camila. I’m lost. I’ll admit that’s happened a lot tonight.”

  “There are a lot of people in Neo SoCal who will pay a lot for confidential police data,” Camila explained. “And I have contact with them.”

  Malcolm shook her arm off and glared at her. “Are you serious?” His hand dropped to his PNIU. “You’re selling police data?”

  Camila shook her head and pointed at his hand. “Don’t call anyone. You see, I’m not you, but I’m still pretty good with computers. I’ve already made changes in the records using your accounts. I’m not giving you any choice. You’re going to help me, or I’m going to disappear and leave you to explain yourself to Internal Affairs.” She walked back to him and patted him on the shoulder. “But if you’re a good boy, you can make a lot of money, and maybe you’ll even get a bonus out of it.” She winked. “I’ll let you sleep on it. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ve got my ways of keeping an eye on you.”

  Malcolm stood there, his mouth gaping as his sexy but evil witch headed to the door. She opened it and stepped through with a wave.

  “Well, crap,” he muttered. “I didn’t have that on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  August 13, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Police Enforcement Zone 122 Station, Office of Detectives Jia Lin and Erik Blackwell

  Jia’s eyes glazed over as she perused the columns of numbers—financial data from an old case she was double-checking.

  Her open cases had been handled, all minor affairs, and she’d been unable to find any new leads on the Kandarian case.

  It only wasn’t officially a cold case because of her stubborn refusal and complaints to the captain, but barring a miracle, they would never know who was behind the robbery.

  She didn’t care that it had been a failed attempt. Corporate espionage might not be as compelling as conspiracies featuring advanced Tin Men, but blood money had a way of corrupting everything around it, the longer it flowed.

  Erik was going through data too, but not for a case. It was a vehicle weapons catalog.

  She suspected he was trying to figure out the next over-the-top modification for the MX 60. She wasn’t sure why he was bothering. He hadn’t mentioned finding a new mechanic who would be willing to arm a civilian-class vehicle heavily. Maybe Colonel Adeyemi had people who would do it for him. If he kept this up, eventually the Taxútnta would end up tossing missiles at terrorists.

  The office door slid open, and bright pink flamingos assaulted Jia’s eyes. She blinked several times before realizing it was just Malcolm’s latest broadside against fashion sanity.

  She might not like it, but she couldn’t deny it was memorable.

  The technician looked over his shoulder before closing the door. “Emma could ensure privacy for us, right? Complete privacy.”

  Emma winked into existence in front of him. “Define privacy, Technician Constantine.”

  Malcolm swallowed and looked over his shoulder again. He licked his lips. Heavy bags
lay under his eyes. “Where you make sure no one can hear us in here and no one is recording anything.”

  Jia laughed. “Your date couldn’t have gone that badly.”

  “I wish that’s all it was,” he muttered.

  Erik frowned at him, then nodded at Emma.

  “Done,” Emma declared with a nod. “I would advise making this conversation short to lower the chance of anyone figuring out something is off. I can handle the technological evidence, but I can’t do anything if someone interrogates you.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jia asked, closing her data windows. “Now that I think about it, you look—”

  “You look like crap,” Erik finished. “If you’re asking Emma to lock this place down, that means you’re worried about someone in the department.” He frowned. “If there’s a bad cop, let us handle it. Trust us. You’re not ready for that kind of thing.”

  “It’s not a bad cop.” Malcolm sighed. “But it’s a problem in the department.” He smiled at Erik. “I was all prepared to use your advice, but it kind of backfired, and now I need your help. It’s about Camila.”

  “Damn,” Erik muttered after Malcolm had finished explaining the situation. “Of all the people in the department to pull that kind of stunt, she was not high on the list. I figured maybe one of the holdovers from the old captain would do that kind of thing.”

  “We have to go to IA,” Jia declared. “That’s his only way out of it.”

  Malcolm groaned. “If you go to IA, I’m going to end up on some prison station.”

  “Why would you? You haven’t done anything yet, and she has to be bluffing about setting you up. Think with your brain, not anything lower.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I wish she was bluffing, but I know she’s not. I got suspicious of that and spent most of the day looking at almost every piece of data I’ve touched or she’s touched recently, looking for alterations or evidence of tampering. There’s one small change that I might be able to link to her just by time proximity, but the records make it look like I did the change. It’s not even anything important. It just makes it look like I changed some biographic data for no reason, but there could be anything out there. I found other changes that are more suspicious, and I know I didn’t make them, but the records say I did. I flagged them for review, citing user error, and those are just the ones I’ve found. She’s worked here for a decent amount of time. If she’s been screwing with things from the beginning, who knows what she’s changed? Who knows how much evidence she’s leaked?”