“He was working on information from the stolen book,” Kev said. “His faith in the accuracy of the text guided his actions. But as I said, before he could trust me with more details, he required a more substantial investment on my part. This led to my first mistake: I involved Viselle.”
He paused for another drink. They were halfway through the bottle already. Makk wondered if anyone cared if they were all buzzed when they returned to the surface.
“As I think she probably told you, Detective Stidgeon, our relationship has been…fraught. She was at a time in her life when she felt like she needed to prove something to me, and I was in a position to take advantage of that impulse. After introductions, she became Orno’s direct contact. Critically, this meant the information that was flowing from the professor to me went to her instead, and she didn’t always share all she knew. On the night of the murder, I wasn’t even aware that she was planning to visit him in person.”
“You thought she killed him,” Makk said.
“I did. As I said, I was no longer a part of the information exchange. I expected her to come to me when she had something actionable. When the vid surfaced, the only conclusion I could draw—I thought—was that Orno told her something so volatile, she had no option but to take his life.”
“What…what could even qualify?” Elicasta asked. “To kill a man.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t approaching this from a reasonable place. And this was my second mistake: I acted to protect her without first speaking to her. By the time she found what I’d done—that I’d purchased and altered the vid—it was too late.”
“Hang on,” Makk said. “There’s a few things here. First off, you made a deliberate decision to involve Dorn Jimbal, the same pupil Orno identified by name as being important in some way. Why would you do that?”
“I wish I could say there was a good deal of thought behind that decision,” he said, “but there wasn’t. They were just the best candidate under the circumstances. Of course, Viselle was aghast not just that I would buy and alter the vid, but that Jimbal was my choice of patsy. She was the one who got them out, as you know. And then there was the third mistake: the cleanup.”
“The cleanup,” Elicasta said. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“That’s what I’m calling it, Ms. Sangristy.”
“To be clear,” Makk said, “we’re talking now about the attacks that killed four people over two days. Right?”
Ba-Ugna Kev smiled, but declined to affirm that. Anything more would be an explicit confession.
He jumped ahead instead. “Then, there was the ugly matter at the cabin,” he said, “and my daughter disappeared. I know you’re wondering if she’s here as well. She’s not. In fact, I don’t know where she is, and this is unfortunate, because even though Orno refused to share all he had learned with me before he died, I believe he shared it with her. I’m aware that this book Orno stole from the vault is currently in your possession, Detective Stidgeon—it was one of the last pieces of information she did impart—but the other thing, the one artifact out of five? I think she has that. If anything Orno said to me in advance of all of this was true, that makes my daughter one of the most important people on the planet.”
“Since she’s a federal fugitive,” Makk said, “I expect to catch up with her soon. I’ll be sure to ask. But she doesn’t have what you think she has.”
Elicasta shot him a quick look. What are you doing? was the gist of it.
“She had two opportunities to collect the artifact,” Kev said. “The night of the murder and the night of the investigation. When I asked her what it was, she only discussed the book. My belief is that while she had the one-of-five artifact, like Orno she was unwilling to provide details in any way other than face-to-face. You’re telling me I’m mistaken?”
“Yeah, she doesn’t have it,” Makk said. “And for all the buildup, I think you’re going to be pretty disappointed.”
Makk opened the images app on his voicer and called up a still of the key. Then he held it up for Ba-Ugna Kev to see.
“You have it,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Is it safe?”
“Sure. As useless as it is, I’m keeping it safe.”
Makk had no idea what the key was for, just that it was tremendously underwhelming. But, it was worth killing over, so he was keeping it as safe as he knew how; it was taped to his thigh.
“How big is it?” Kev asked.
“About as long as my forearm. And look, I’ll give you that it’s weird. I don’t know what it’s made of, but you wouldn’t have any trouble convincing me it was a pre-Collapse artifact. Other than that, it’s no big deal.”
“How…staggeringly naïve.”
“Hey now, let’s not start calling each other names.”
“You need to find Viselle,” he said. “Learn what she knows. The fate of the world is in the balance.”
Makk nearly laughed out loud. “Oh, come on.”
Kev jumped to his feet and stepped away from the table. He did it so abruptly, Makk’s first instinct was to reach for his gun. But the man just needed to have himself a good pace.
“All right,” Kev said. “I thought your involvement in this didn’t extend beyond the book. I was wrong. And it’s clear you’re going to have to be dragged to a greater understanding, kicking and screaming. I’ll be blunt. My daughter cannot be a fugitive. Even if she doesn’t have that key you’re so dismissive of, with Orno’s death the knowledge she does have is irreplaceable. You need to find her. Not to arrest her. Give her the key, if you think so little of this project.”
“How do you mean for her to stop being a fugitive?” Makk asked. “She’s on vid murdering two people and confessing to a conspiracy to commit, plus obstruction and like four other charges. Unless one of the gadgets on that table is a time machine, I think you’re a little late.”
“The two of you will have to disavow the vid,” he said.
Elicasta laughed. “What? Yeah, that’s not happening. How would that even work?”
“There are ways to make it inadmissible. One of those ways is if you claim it was a fake.”
“I’d lose my verified flag,” she said. “Also, it’s not true. Are you flaked?”
“Do you understand how Streamer verification works, Elicasta Sangristy?”
“It’s a committee or something. The NCD works it.”
“That’s right. The National Communications Division. A large and terribly underfunded arm of the League of Countries. How does the NCD determines what is and is not true? That’s the measure, right? That, and subscription base, which is just a number. But truth? That’s subjective. Do you imagine they have a team of researchers checking the validity of what’s reported?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Well, I do know. A program scrapes the Stream, collects data and plugs it into an algorithm. This algorithm produces a number. That number corresponds to a Streamer’s baseline truthfulness according to a range of metrics. I know all of this because I’m the one who designed the entire system. I also know precisely how to manipulate it to do what I want. I assume you value your status as a Veeser?”
“Makk…” she said. She looked terrified.
“Don’t look at him, Elicasta, look at me,” Kev said. “Do you value your status as a Veeser?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Please listen very carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. If you do not disavow the vid, I will make sure it’s discredited anyway and I will make sure you lose your blue light. If you do disavow it…say whatever you want to invalidate it, it won’t matter…I will make sure you do not lose your blue light.”
“But the vid is the truth,” she said quietly. “How can you expect me to say otherwise?”
“Truth is a fluid concept. I have the algo to prove it.”
“And then what?” Makk asked. “You both go free and run off to save the world?”
Kev laughed. “I have no idea if I’m
going to go free at all. Viselle is much more important right now.”
“Then we get her charges dropped and…somehow go find her? I don’t think she wants to be found.”
“On the contrary, I think once the charges are dropped she will find you.”
Makk looked Elicasta in the eyes. She appeared equal parts furious and ready to cry. She also looked like she was seriously considering this.
“It’s a bluff,” Makk said to her. “He can’t do any of that from inside a jail cell.”
“I believe you’ll find I can be quite productive from anywhere, detective,” Kev said. “This has all been arranged already. I need only to tip the first tile. You’re mistaken if you think I haven’t ensured that I could do this from prison, should it turn out you’re incapable of being reasonable. It’s not a bluff.” He looked at Elicasta. “It’s an opportunity.”
“We’re going to pass on your ‘opportunity’, Ba-Ugna,” Makk said.
“I’ll do it,” Elicasta said.
“What?” Makk said. “No.”
“I thought you might,” Kev said.
“But I’m going to need a better legend. ‘It was all untrue’ can’t float. I need a coercion storyline.”
“We can work out something more to your liking,” Kev said.
“No you cannot,” Makk said. “Not right now.”
“Detective, it would be better if I had both of you,” Kev said, “but it’s not necessary. You will only look worse in the contrast.”
“I don’t care,” he said. He looked at Elicasta. “You and I will discuss this later. Right now I’m going to do what I came here to do. Stand up, Ba-Ugna.”
Kev shrugged, and got to his feet.
Makk said, “Ba-Ugna Kev, under the authority of the city of Velon, the county of Velon, and the nation of Inimata, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Kiz Libbat, Wicha Reece, Bogdis Malvonie, and Mirka Beld. Now turn around so I can cuff you.”
Kev sighed. “At least let me finish my drink first,” he said.
Chapter Seventeen
The degree to which null-grav tech had altered the landscape of the country was probably best observed at the airport. Pillick Quibb still remembered what Kloget International Airfield looked like when the only air travel within the atmosphere was via ordinary wingplanes. This didn’t make him old; it was only ten years ago.
Most travel outside of the atmosphere back then required either chemical rockets or fusion-lit propulsion systems, and was generally only for official governmental reasons, like to put a satellite into orbit or for commutes to and from the moon base. Null-grav exo-vehicles existed, certainly, but they weren’t commonplace and they weren’t cheap. They also never carried more than a pilot and a copilot, as most of the time they were freight vehicles resupplying Lys.
The skies got more complicated once the cost of the tech started coming down. Aero-cars were suddenly everywhere, it seemed, despite being—in his opinion—insanely dangerous. The laws governing the sky were crap; he did not look forward to the day when he might have to defend one of them in front of a judge, because even the most basic ones were full of loopholes. Quibb was positive nothing short of a ten aero-car pileup would result in laws with teeth, and only if the wreckage fell on something important.
Commercial travel’s embrace of null-grav tech was still evolving. One of the early changes was the establishing of an air corridor and landing pad specifically for exo-vehicles—spaceships, in other words, coming in from space or heading to it. Unlike the freight vessels (which mainly continued to launch from private pads located on different parts of Dib) these ships were designed to take people up and down. It was faster than the Tether, and a lot more expensive. And, since there was no public dock on Lys, the only citizens who could avail themselves of such a mode of transport were the ones who already lived up there.
Pillick could sort of understand the need for the exo-vehicles; they were replacing something using old technology—an elevator riding up nanotubes—with more efficient, newer technology. What he didn’t understand was the aero-ships: commercial null-grav international-travel vehicles that had begun taking the place of the wingplanes. They were more expensive, didn’t get anyplace faster, and had the same shit braking system as the aero-cars. He understood the appeal of the aero-boats—which traveled over the water instead of on the water—but not the aero-ships.
Quibb happened to be ruminating on all of this because he was currently at Kloget International staring at an exo landing pad and waiting for a ship to arrive there from space. He was with three unmarked widewagons and ten police officers in plainclothes plus Yordon Llotho, yet for some reason he felt incredibly exposed.
“They’re dropping out now,” Yordon said, slipping his voicer back into his pocket.
“What took your man so long?” Quibb asked.
“Makk wouldn’t say, but he’s not the chattiest guy. You may have noticed. I’ll wring details from him after he’s down.”
“You don’t think it’s a little odd?”
“Which part?” Llotho asked.
“I talked to Stidgeon myself, and he didn’t act like he knew why Kev wanted him and the Veeser there. Now they spend an extra couple of hours up on Lys…I don’t know. Something feels off.”
“This was your deal, Quibb,” the captain said. “First thing I asked, remember what it was? Are you putting my guy on the line for no reason. Don’t tell me you’re getting woozy now.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Just asking why the wait.”
“Be patient. There’s a lot of waiting on this end of the law.”
Llotho was right: Pillick hardly considered Makk Stidgeon’s general welfare at all when he set this up. All he was thinking about was how to line up what had to happen after Ba-Ugna Kev was in custody.
He had to move Haven and the Depths just to make holding Kev at all worth the trouble. There was a judge waiting for his call on a petition to hold pending further discovery, so Kev’s lawyers wouldn’t have him back out again in under an hour. Getting the judge to agree to that cost him a lot of favors and he had to do it in total secrecy, not just from the media; from everyone.
Now that he was on the landing pad and feeling naked, the mechanics of the handoff—the one part of this plan he left to Yordon Llotho—suddenly seemed perilous.
“How did you choose these officers, captain?” he asked.
“Hand-picked them myself, Mr. Quibb.”
“All right.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Calcut Linus,” Quibb said. “I’ve heard he has a few cops in his pocket. No offense intended.”
“I heard that too,” Llotho said. “I also heard he has the county attorney in his pocket. Even had lunch with him the other day.”
“That isn’t true.”
“I didn’t think it was. Just telling you what I heard.”
“It’s just that…Linus has a hard-on for Ba-Ugna Kev.”
“Not exactly a secret. You think Calcut’s got it in him to launch an attack on an entire team of cops out in the open like this? That’s not how he does things.”
“He murdered his own brother. A month ago I might have considered him too wily to attempt anything like that. But I did run into him at lunch, like you heard. He threatened me, and it wasn’t even subtle. Linus wants to get his hands on Kev. Man gets away with murder once, he gets a little more brazen. I don’t even know what qualifies for brazen for someone like him.”
“I hear you,” Llotho said. He pulled out a bacco stick and lit it, offering the pack to Pillick, who declined. He’d just quit smoking a year earlier, and positively ached to have one, but knew that it would make him light-headed and he didn’t want to be light-headed.
“And you’re right,” the captain added. “Linus has a couple of fingers stuck in my department. But I know who they are.”
“Can’t you do something about it?”
“I am doing something about it. I’m keeping them off d
etails like this one. Besides, I can’t prove anything, and even if I could drum them out that’d just mean another cop on the take, maybe one I don’t know about. It’s cleaner this way. I promise you, none of those guys are here.”
“All right. But when we get back downtown, you and I are going to have a long talk about anti-corruption initiatives.”
“Sounds terrific. I think that’s them.”
An exo-vehicle was coming in low over the horizon from the west, which was where Lys was currently located in the sky. It was a standard vehicle, metal with ceramic shielding and a couple of windows, just big enough to carry about six people comfortably plus a pilot. Its sole function was to go up and down, and to not burn up when doing either of those things.
It descended unnaturally—the physics of null-grav technology always looked wrong to him—before performing a corkscrew landing to burn off some of its lateral velocity. Once it came to a rest, it sat still for long enough for Llotho to finish his bacco stick; it always took about a minute for the exterior of an exo to cool. Then green lights went up across the landing runners, and they knew it was safe to approach.
“Let’s go,” Llotho said to his team of trusted officers. Six of them met up with the captain and Quibb. Pillick kept looking for that one policeman who seemed a little too eager to draw on the ship’s passengers, but decided he wasn’t the best judge; in his eyes they all looked ready to do that.
The doors opened.
“Oh, hello,” a woman said as she climbed out. She was a tall, leggy blonde wearing a dress that looked like it cost more than Quibb’s pension. “Which one of you boys is my limo driver? Or do I get to pick?”
Another woman, also dressed like she was on her way to a club, climbed out next.
“Baby, it’s the pollies. We’re clean, bitches.” She raised her hand. “Tell her who your daddy is, Baby.”
“Real,” the blonde said. “We are in the wrong place, Cheeks. How’d Bixie screw up so bad?”
“Step away from the vehicle!” Llotho barked. He had his hand on the butt of his gun. “Now!”
The Madness of Kings Page 21