The Chiral Conspiracy – A Military Science Fiction Thriller: A Biogenesis War Prequel (The Biogenesis War Book 0)

by L. L. Richman

  Ell straightened, pushing the beer aside. “Send me what you’ve got. It’s early still. I’ll head out now and try to locate the people who might have seen him last.”

  Rafe stood, rapping his knuckles against her desk. “Thanks, Ell. I owe you one.”

  He turned to leave, but paused at the door, eyes lit with a dark humor. “You kicked ass today, Agent Cyr. If you hadn’t pulled off that escape, Thad would’ve owed me two rounds, though. So don’t think this one bottle of lager’s going to cancel that out, capiche?”

  With a wink and a grin, he slapped the flat of his hand once against her door jamb, and then faded into the darkness.

  SIX

  Wynn Symposium

  Merki Institute

  Midland

  Hawking Habitat

  Ell had things wrapped up and was on an express shuttle to Midland half an hour after Rafe left her office. She spent the time between Portsmouth and Hawking’s Midway docking ring reviewing the dossier Rafe had supplied her on one Bill Peres, biochemist.

  He’d been employed by Biwer Biogenics for several years before accepting a contract with the Navy. The information Rafe handed her was heavily redacted, but she could read between the lines. Whatever work Peres did for the Navy was surely cutting edge.

  Weapons development, she speculated. An advance in propulsion or encryption, possibly. Maybe some new kind of defensive shielding they could use to secure their embassies in far-flung places like An-Yang or Akkadia.

  No matter the specifics, it was a plum appointment. She couldn’t imagine a guy like Peres would willingly duck out of it. That meant the possibility of foul play.

  It was after sunset when she arrived at the Merki Institute. She waited patiently by the security kiosk as the SI paged one of the Symposium’s sponsors to come meet her.

  As usually happened when she flashed her NCIC credentials, it wasn’t long before the lift doors opened, disgorging a petite redhead in a no-nonsense business suit. The woman strode briskly toward her, lips pressed together in annoyance.

  “Miss Mieks?” Ell held out her hand. “Special Agent Cyr, with the NCIC.”

  The woman took her hand, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “Agent Cyr, can’t this wait? We’re in the middle of a high-profile event.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ell said, “but it’s a missing persons case, and those are time critical.”

  Mieks closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as if Ell’s words had given her a migraine. “Very well, but please keep in mind, the symposium’s reputation is above reproach. Your presence could jeopardize that if it becomes linked to an investigation.”

  Ell forced her expression to remain pleasant. “I assure you, I’ll be nothing but discreet, but it’s imperative that I locate Bill Peres.”

  Mieks pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Fifteen minutes,” she conceded grudgingly. “That’s all I can give you. I’m sure someone will know where he is. I saw him myself, a few hours ago.”

  “Oh, really?” Ell asked, submitting her token to the security SI when it asked for her ID. The kiosk chimed and the SI wished her a good evening.

  “Yes, he was leaving the general session after the day one keynote.” Mieks said, motioning her toward the lifts.

  “You saw him a few hours ago, but not recently?” Ell persisted.

  The woman fixed her with an irritated look.

  “Agent Cyr, the flawless execution of a show the size of the Wyss Symposium requires all my attention,” she snapped as their lift rose. “I have people to handle the more mundane things, like keeping track of our daily speakers. I’m sure one of them can tell you where he is.”

  Ell bit back a retort as she followed her from the lift and into a crowd of people milling about, drinks in hand.

  “There,” Mieks said, pointing to a tall, narrow-faced man. “Clint Janus would be a good place for you to begin. He works for the same company Peres used to work for, Biwer. I’ll introduce you, and then I really need to be on my way.”

  She didn’t wait for Ell to respond, just plowed through the crowd. It was interesting how quickly they parted for her. Ell suspected it was more a case of avoidance than it was respect.

  Janus turned as they approached, his face breaking into a smile at the sight of Mieks. “Beverly,” he said, his tone warm, “it’s good to see you.” He glanced over at Ell and nodded a silent greeting, brow lifted in polite curiosity.

  “Doctor Janus, Special Agent Elodie Cyr with NCIC. She’s looking for people who might have seen Doctor Peres.” Introduction over, Mieks gave a crisp nod and then left.

  Ell ignored the brush-off, her eyes trained on Janus. The man’s pleasant smile had frozen when he heard who she was. It was subtle, but Ell had been trained to observe such microexpressions.

  She suspected he was the type who was only civil to those who could further his career. If there was more to it, though, Ell intended to find out.

  She thrust her hand forward, stepping in close. “Oh, I’m not here on business, doctor,” she said, plastering a friendly smile on her face and leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “I’m just doing a favor for a colleague.”

  “A favor? What would that be?” The man lifted a blonde brow. The light green eyes that stared down at her in bemusement were set into a lean face with high cheekbones and a chiseled chin.

  Ell realized abruptly that the man before her was almost too perfect. Janus had classic features, but they were abnormally symmetrical.

  She wondered briefly if vanity was the only reason why he’d undergone facial modification, and decided to have Quinn do a background check on the man.

  “Yes, a favor. Doctor Peres is needed back at work, but they’re having a hard time finding him. I said I’d drop by and let him know in person. You saw him a while ago?” she prompted.

  Janus hesitated briefly and then gestured around. “We were right here, actually,” he told her. “It was early on, about two hours or so ago, I’d say.”

  Ell nodded. “I see. Did he happen to mention his plans for the rest of the evening?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Janus frowned and tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully—a practiced move, Ell was sure. “Although he seemed…somewhat unhappy.”

  Her attention sharpened at this. “Unhappy,” she repeated. “Can you elaborate?”

  Janus lifted a shoulder in a gallic shrug. “I’m not one to spread rumors, Miss Cyr—”

  “Special Agent Cyr,” Ell couldn’t help correcting. “Go on.”

  Janus tilted his head. “My apologies. Agent Cyr. What Bill told me was in confidence, you understand. Peer to peer, if you will. As a professional courtesy, I’m reluctant to break that trust,” he raised a hand to stop her incipient protest, “but since this is important, I’ll tell you.”

  He glanced around, as if to ensure no one was near enough to overhear, before letting out a weighted sigh.

  “Bill expressed dissatisfaction with his job,” the man confessed. “He indicated he was ready to break ties with the Navy, said something about not being comfortable with what they were doing, or how they were going about it.”

  Ell nodded, but did not otherwise respond.

  The practice of using silence to draw someone out had a long, storied history. People invariably felt the need to rush in and fill the void. Janus proved to be no different.

  After a long moment, he sent her an impatient look. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, Miss Cyr?” he said, a sharp edge creeping into his voice. “I’m saying that it’s quite possible the man can’t be found because he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “I see,” she said. “Regardless, I still need to find him. Other than his expressing unhappiness with his current job, did he say anything else that might indicate where he could have gone?”

  Janus made a show of clasping his hands together, tenting his fingers and tapping them thoughtfully against his lips. His eyes cast up and to the right, and he slowly shook his head.
<
br />   “No,” he drew out the word slowly, “I’m afraid not.”

  “What about anyone else he might have spoken with, maybe after you two parted?”

  Her words triggered something, and for a brief moment, Ell thought she saw relief flash in his eyes.

  “Yes, actually,” Janus said, straightening. “Two women approached him just as I was walking away.”

  Ell cocked her head, and when he didn’t immediately continue, prompted, “Their names, doctor?”

  His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Let’s see, one was Linnet Thompson. She’s a biochemist as well. She works for the Institute and is attending the conference. But the other—”

  Ell wondered if the malice in his gaze was real, or if she was imagining it.

  “The other was a physicist by the name of Samantha Travis. Now, what would she be doing at a conference on biochemistry, I wonder?” he asked.

  Ell’s gaze sharpened. No love lost between those two, she thought.

  She waited, but when it appeared this was all he was going to say, Ell stepped back.

  “Thank you for your time, Doctor,” she said, signaling her wire to drop her contact information to him over the Institute’s secured net. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, please give me a call.”

  Janus nodded and then made a hasty exit as Ell submitted a search request for the two woman Janus had mentioned. The net returned a null value, indicating neither was in the building.

  That left her with only one other option. She let out a small sigh, eyes scanning the room for the woman who had escorted her in.

  Mieks was at the back of the room, in deep conversation with a small group of people. Their dress suggested they were conference workers and not attendees.

  She pitched her voice to carry as she approached the small group. “Pardon the interruption, but I need to locate two additional people who were here tonight.”

  “Their names?” Mieks’ voice was abrupt as she pivoted to face Ell.

  “Doctors Linnet Thompson, and Samantha Travis.” She waited while Mieks accessed the Institute’s security record, something Ell couldn’t legally do without a warrant.

  After a moment, Mieks straightened. “The security kiosk shows that a Sam Travis was registered as Doctor Thompson’s plus-one for the reception,” the woman informed her. “She arrived two hours ago, and both left the net half an hour later.”

  Ell nodded her thanks. “Very well, then. I’ll swing by tomorrow and have a word with Doctor Thompson, if we haven’t located Peres by then,” she told Mieks, who sighed and shot her a repressive look.

  “Very well, but do it discreetly,” the woman ordered, and then turned her back on Ell, effectively dismissing her.

  With a slight shake of her head at the woman’s brusque, almost hostile behavior, Ell left.

  SEVEN

  Undisclosed location

  Midland

  When the call came, the woman set aside her work and accepted the connection. The person on the other end cut straight to the point.

  {Someone was here, asking about Peres. That was not the plan.}

  The woman rose and stepped away from her work. She stood in the shadows for a long moment, mentally reviewing her actions from earlier that evening and finding no flaw in them.

  Her lips pressed together, the only indication of emotion on her face. {No plan survives intact after it’s implemented. Tell me who, and what was said.} she instructed.

  {NCIC is looking for him. They’re questioning those who spoke to him last night. Will this pose a problem?}

  She let the question hang there for a breath, then two.

  {It will be handled.}

  She severed the connection, taking a moment to center herself. After confirming her surroundings were secure, she set out to build a trail of evidence, a story that would lead those investigating down the path of her choosing.

  Bouncing her signal across countless relays in such a way that any traceback attempt would terminate in an infinite loop, she planted bits of data in obscure corners within Hawking’s pubnet.

  A few scraps were dangled tantalizingly close to the surface, begging closer scrutiny. Others were buried sufficiently deep that a seasoned investigator would have to work hard to ferret them out.

  After planting the local evidence, she made a secured and untraceable connection to the Ford-Svaiter node embedded in the Starshot buoy holding station alongside Hawking. From there, she jumped into a network known for its discreet handling of such situations.

  Eleven light years away, an account was opened in Bill Peres’s name, and manufactured evidence was left for others to find.

  Each piece of the puzzle was crafted to very deliberately lead the Alliance astray—and as far away from her as humanly possible.

  EIGHT

  Nimitz Spaceport

  Portsmouth

  Ell had just landed back in Portsmouth and was on her way home when she saw Quinn’s ID pop up on her overlay.

  {Hey, boss, why didn’t you tell me you were headed out this evening?} he protested when she answered. {I’d have been happy to come along and help out.}

  {No need.} She smiled at Quinn’s almost protective attitude.

  The probie still had a lot of ‘shiny’ to him, left over from New Quantico. She could sense he wanted to quote regs to her.

  {I know it’s procedure to always go out in pairs on an investigation, but this isn’t really an official one. Rafe just asked me to hunt down one of the Navy’s civilian contractors. Evidently he went off-grid sometime late today.}

  {And you don’t think that’s the least bit suspicious?} Quinn sent her a frown. {He could have been mugged, or worse.}

  {Which is why I left you behind. That way, if I’d needed it, I could’ve asked you to run traces on any leads I found,} she replied patiently. {I might have a few, if you’re interested.}

  {You do?} She smiled when she heard Quinn’s mental tone perk up. {Like what?}

  {According to one of his peers who spoke to him today, Doctor Peres wasn’t thrilled with his current boss,} she said.

  {Peres, huh,} Quinn’s mental voice turned thoughtful.

  {Yes, Bill Peres, biophysicist. Navy contractor.}

  Ell could almost hear the circuits burning as Quinn’s nimble mind slipped into the Department of Defense’s encrypted net and began rifling through data packets, turning over what he could find on the man.

  After a moment, he hummed disbelievingly. {Not sure I’m buying that, boss.}

  {Why not?}

  {Doesn’t ring true. From what I can see here, Peres is doing some top-tier research, published some cutting edge papers. That black site he’s stationed at is a scientist’s wet dream.}

  Quinn paused and Ell wondered curiously if he’d managed to locate info on the black site Micah Case was supposed to deliver Peres to the next day.

  {Okay, then. Dig deeper and see what you can find on him,} she suggested. {An illicit affair with an angry spouse. Outstanding debt. A local friend he may have visited. I’m headed back down there tomorrow for more interviews.}

  {Already on it,} Quinn promised. {I’ll get you whatever I find, first thing tomorrow. Let me know if you change your mind; I can hop on a shuttle and be at the Belly Band in half an hour.}

  Quinn’s use of the Midway ring’s nickname amused Ell. She’d heard Hawking’s governor hated the moniker.

  The smaller spacedock system that encircled the cylinder’s midpoint allowed for a quick, twenty-minute transit time between the habitat’s central city of Midland and the Portsmouth spacedock, thanks to the cylinder’s tangential rotation.

  {I think I have it covered,} she told him, {but thanks for the offer.}

  The next morning, she woke to a message icon flashing insistently on her overlay. She frowned at the time stamp, realizing Quinn had worked into the early hours of the morning to compile his report.

  Her frown gave way to incredulity when she opened it and saw its contents. She sa
t up in bed with a jolt.

  Quinn answered her ping almost immediately.

  {What in the rings of Atlieka?} she blurted out as she flipped the covers off and started pacing the room. {The Black Adders? Are you kidding me?}

  Quinn’s mental tone sounded slurred, and she felt a momentary guilt at awakening him.

  {Yeah, boss. Kind of a shocker, isn’t it? Nice scientist like him and all.}

  Ell raked her hand through her hair, mind working furiously as she skimmed Quinn’s report one more time. {How’d you find this anyway?}

  She heard a heavy mental sigh. {Wasn’t easy. I found a tiny thread on one of the darknet gambling sites, and started pulling at it. After a while, things just started unraveling for me. Peres was using an assumed name and a forged ID token, both linked to an account he’d set up at a bank in the Archipelagos.}

  Ell came to an abrupt stop. She felt her brows rise to her hairline.

  {The Archipelagos,} she repeated. {Well, now, that’s just a wee bit suspicious, isn’t it. No one banks out in Sol’s Outer Rim like that, if they’re not trying to launder credits.}

  Quinn shrugged. {Kind of what I thought, too. The Archipelagos are famous for their ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policies.}

  {And yet, you managed to trace him there, with just a few hours of searching.} Ell felt doubt creeping in.

  {Hey, I’m really good at what I do,} Quinn protested.

  {Not saying any different, but isn’t it a bit convenient that this shows up just as I start asking around about him? And how many biochemists do you think know how to get their hands on a forged ID?}

  {I agree, linking an Archipelago account to a gambling site wasn’t his smartest move,} Quinn conceded. {But everyone falls victim to stupid from time to time.}

  {So he’s in hock to the cartel for…?}

  {So much that he’s lucky they didn’t feed him to the fishes years ago,} Quinn replied, his tone blunt.