Proximity

by Jem Tugwell

  ‘Don’t worry. While iMe resolves the issue, we’ll rely on old procedures and start by talking to the boyfriend. We’ll ask about Karina’s life, routine and where she works.’

  I turned back to the window and saw rivulets of water running from the bottom of the mouth I had drawn in the condensation.

  ***

  If I had written a list of the unlikely boyfriends for Karina, Dave would have been at the top. Six feet two inches but beanpole thin, he had loops of skin hanging under his earlobes from stretchers he no longer wore. I couldn’t be bothered to count all his piercings or the multitude of tattoos.

  Dave looked really agitated, so I let Zoe start the questioning. I paced around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It had the usual projection wall, but its sleek frame-less sheen looked strange against the plastic floral wall wrap. Fashion went in cycles I knew, but I didn’t get this look. My grandma’s old wallpaper was similar, and we had papered over that for her.

  Dave looked up to address the building’s control system. ‘House… Blinds… Night-time,’ he said, and the glass of the room’s windows blackened, hiding the small patch of grass outside, and a cityscape of St Paul’s Cathedral at night faded in.

  ‘What does Karina do?’ she asked.

  ‘She designs Sentiments… in Windsor.’

  I nodded. Lots of people used them on their iMe, but my Sentiments were permanently disabled. Why would you want to share a little graphical character that automatically showed your current mood? Feelings were too personal to make public.

  ‘You’ve got to find her,’ Dave added. ‘She can’t be missing.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Dave, we will,’ Zoe said brightly, trying to show him some hope. ‘So why didn’t she work from home?’

  ‘She used to, but the isolation got to her, and she likes to people watch. She gets inspiration from seeing people’s faces and body language. She says it helps her Sentiments look more real.’

  ‘And Karina always came home at the same time?’

  ‘Yeah, usually home by six, unless she has a networking event… where is she?’ Dave said, sounding close to tears.

  Dave pushed his palms over his eyes and pushed his fingers into the hair over his forehead. He circled his hands a couple of times before removing them. I wondered if this was to hide the tears or if he couldn’t cope with the uncertainty. Karina’s location should have been a couple of clicks on his HUD away.

  ‘What sort of networking event?’ I asked.

  ‘They’re arranged every month by the iMe company for people who design things for them. You know, technical briefings, new versions, that sort of shit.’

  ‘Was there an event tonight? Could she be at iMe?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, she should’ve been at home?’

  ‘Yes, but she wasn’t here when I got back from work.’ Dave wiped his eyes with the back of a hand again.

  ‘You work?’ I couldn’t help myself.

  Dave stared, clearly pissed off, but used to the conclusions people of my age jumped to based on his appearance. ‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Somewhere local? A warehouse?’

  ‘No, I work in London,’ he said, ‘I’m a senior partner at InfoTech Marketing. We do all the big media streaming firms.’ Now his eyes challenged me, and I shelved some of my preconceptions.

  Zoe cut in to smooth things along, and Dave talked her through the details of Karina’s workplace, commute and schedule. ‘No sign of damage or a struggle?’

  ‘Nothing. I phoned her friends, her work – nothing. I paid for a signal trace but only got an empty report. I shouted at iMe and then called you. What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s a simple technical issue. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what they said. But if her signal’s gone, how’s she going to get home? I mean, she won’t be able to pay for anything or even get a cab.’

  ‘She must have a signal, mustn’t she?’ I said, trying to keep the dur, stupid undertone out of my voice. ‘iMe think it’s the reporting of her tracking signal that’s got an issue. Her iMe’s close proximity functions will still work. She’ll still be able to use TouchToPay,’ I said this with certainty based on no knowledge whatsoever. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find her. She can’t have got far.’

  As we headed out of the house, Zoe paused by the front door, and rubbed at some discoloured specks on the wall.

  ‘Why can’t cleaners use sprays properly?’ she said.

  9

  DI Clive Lussac

  On the journey back, it struck me that in the old days I would have been researching Dave and Karina and not staring out of the window. Better late than never, I flicked through the images Dave had sent of his girlfriend. She was more beautiful than in her government profile photos. I still couldn’t put her together with Dave, but she obviously saw something in him. Perhaps it was like art: where someone’s brilliant is another person’s rubbish that a child could have painted. If Dave could be with Karina, then I had some hope for my barren love life.

  The ringtone buzzed in my ear, and I checked the caller ID on my HUD: DCS Bhatt. The ringtone continued. I couldn’t ignore my boss, so I touched my jaw to answer the call. With a physical phone, I could have held it away from my ear to lessen the impact of the verbal stream of disapproval coming at me, but when it’s in your head, you have to take it at full volume.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ was all I could manage. ‘Right away,’ and the call ended.

  ‘We’re in the shit, Zoe. Bhatt wants us now.’

  ***

  Bhatt made us wait outside for a few minutes after I knocked. Was she busy, or was this delay to emphasise her annoyance at something we had done? Either way, when we shuffled in, we were two nervous school kids before the head teacher.

  ‘Sit,’ Bhatt said, without looking up. We did as we were told and waited. Instead of speaking, she stood, still not looking at us, and crossed to a small wash area in the corner of her office. She put her hands into the clear tubes. Soapy water swirled up, covering her hands before being sucked away. The noisy blast of drying air ruffled her sleeves.

  Back in her desk chair, she re-straightened the cuffs of her immaculate white blouse. Bhatt and I went back a long way, and I’d never seen her without her black hair held back in a tidy ponytail. In an unguarded moment, waiting in the rain in some stakeout or other years ago, she’d told me that it was because she was Indian and female fighting her way up in the police. She said she couldn’t afford to show anything that senior ranks might misconstrue as feminine ‘weakness’. She was a supportive, good boss, but God help you if you cocked up.

  ‘Tell me you’ve solved it, Clive,’ she said, as always not interested in skirting around the subject. ‘Tell me you’ve found Karina Morgan.’

  ‘You’re taking it seriously?’

  Bhatt stared at me, eyebrows raised. Inviting me to dig myself further into a hole.

  ‘But, ma’am, it’s a technical–’

  Bhatt’s finger went up to silence me. ‘I’ll pretend that you didn’t say that. Have you found Karina Morgan?’

  ‘Um, no. Sorry.’

  ‘Sorry isn’t good enough on this.’

  ‘It’s a missing person,’ said Zoe, trying to come to my defence.

  Bhatt glared at her until Zoe dropped her eyes to the carpet. ‘DC Jordan, this is the first time we’ve worked together, so I will make some allowances, but don’t interrupt me again unless it’s to tell me you’ve found her.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Clive, where have you got to?’ Bhatt said.

  My mind turned at the speed of a drill with a flat battery. ‘Well,’ I said, trying to buy some thinking time. ‘There are no tracks and no signal.’

  Bhatt looked furious. ‘That’s it. That’s all you’ve got?’

  ‘But… it shouldn’t happen.’ I faltered, and Zoe protected me by throwing a graph onto Bhatt’s display wall. It was simple, showing signal str
ength on the left side, and time along the bottom. My eyes followed the green line showing Karina’s signal strength was at a solid 100% for most of the day. Then, at 17:37, her signal crashed vertically down to 0%, where it stayed.

  ‘We went to Karina’s home and interviewed her boyfriend,’ Zoe said. ‘He said that he didn’t see any mess or sign of a struggle at all.’

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Bhatt asked.

  ‘He seemed to be telling the truth. He appeared concerned about Karina, but it could be an act,’ Zoe offered.

  I said, ‘But if Dave’s done something to Karina, how could he hide her signal? He’s in marketing – he’s not technical enough.’

  ‘What else could it be?’ Bhatt said.

  Zoe shrugged. ‘iMe Tech Support says they haven’t found a bug… but there must be one. Otherwise we’d have a signal.’

  I didn’t get it either. ‘Zoe’s right. We’re being told there is no problem, but we don’t know where Karina is. So, by definition, that’s a problem.’ I churned the dilemma around. ‘We’ve always been assured that a technical fault is impossible,’ I said. ‘It would undermine the whole integrity of the system.’

  ‘But it’s more likely than someone working out how to hide Karina’s signal,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s iMe we’re talking about, all that encryption and technology. It’s so secure, where would you start?’

  Bhatt held one finger up to show she wanted some thinking time. We waited. Zoe’s eyes were back looking at the grey carpet. I joined her and saw a multitude of small spots and marks that showed the carpet’s age and told of a hard life.

  ‘So, you agree that we have two scenarios: one is an unexpected technical fault, which is unlikely; the second, even more unlikely, is that Karina really is missing, and someone has hacked the system.’ Bhatt seemed pleased that she had led us to a conclusion.

  ‘Yes,’ was my only embarrassing contribution.

  ‘And neither scenario is good. In fact, both scenarios are a potential disaster. When the press finds out, there’ll be a huge storm. People panicking about their money and security.’ Bhatt’s tone changed, emphasising every word to make sure we got the message. ‘It’s already political, so I need you two,’ she paused to stare at us, ‘to solve it quickly. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Zoe and I said in unison.

  ‘We need to keep it quiet, so don’t talk about this to anyone other than me, OK?’

  Another stereo, ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I’ll get you in to see Art Walker tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Wow, the head of iMe?’ Zoe said.

  ‘Yes,’ Bhatt glared at Zoe for daring to say something unprompted. ‘Art will know what’s really going on. You need to get him to tell you if it’s a technical fault or not, without being fobbed off with the corporate, there’s no problem line.’

  ‘You called him Art,’ I said. ‘You know him personally?’

  Bhatt looked like it was the most natural thing to know one of the most powerful men in the country and call him by his first name. ‘Oh, we’ve met a few times.’

  ‘And you can get us space in his diary at short notice?’

  She smiled. Of course she could.

  ‘So, what now?’ I said.

  ‘Last time I looked, Clive, you were meant to be a detective inspector. Go and do your job.’

  10

  Thief

  ‘I’m sorry, Karina, things aren’t working out between us.’

  ‘Why?’

  Her favourite word again.

  She had tried so hard, been so positive and upbeat. Everything I’d asked of her, she’d done. She’d worn what I’d given her, played every game and obeyed my every command.

  ‘You’ve been great, but I need something else.’

  ‘But I’ve done everything you asked.’ She was getting anxious. ‘You know… everything.’

  Everything had been good. ‘I know.’

  I thought this level of control would be enough for me. Sadly, for Karina, getting what I wanted wasn’t the same as getting what I needed. It was too easy, and she was too perfect. It didn’t address the real issue.

  ‘And we’ve been good together,’ she said.

  She had played the role of captive well, but she must have rationalised that conflict and argument wouldn’t help. She smiled and feigned enjoyment. She was good, convincing almost, but it was just Stockholm syndrome. Any psychological alliance she showed me was a survival strategy. She was doing what she needed to get through each day.

  ‘I know. I’m going to have to let you go.’

  She smiled and then frowned, trying to work out what I meant. ‘Really? Let me go?’ She ended with a smile.

  ‘I’ve loved having you here, but I need the space.’

  ‘You said that you couldn’t let me go… couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘I know, but I’ve been thinking about that. You’ve no idea where you are and haven’t seen my face.’

  ‘That’s true, I haven’t,’ she said, willing her enthusiasm to sway the argument. ‘Anyway, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘I’m planning to leave you in Windsor Great Park. You promise that you won’t tell the police about me?’

  ‘I won’t tell. Please let me go.’ Her eyes pleaded with me like a dog begging for food.

  ‘OK. We both need to move on,’ I said.

  She beamed and looked around the metal room and the cage. I don’t think she ever expected to leave. She collapsed back onto the bed and sobbed as the relief and hope came welling up.

  She thought she had a future.

  11

  DI Clive Lussac

  Bhatt hadn’t been able to get us an appointment in Art Walker’s diary before late afternoon the next day and, even then, we had been made to wait twenty-five minutes in reception. I was fidgety and frustrated. Every step away from the front desk towards Art’s office made my mood worse, as my rubber-soled shoes squeaked like I was being shadowed by a vocal mouse. I could sense the assistant’s annoyance. Zoe dropped a pace behind me so that I wouldn’t see her fighting to control her laughter.

  ‘Please wait in Mr Walker’s office,’ the assistant said. ‘He will be with you presently.’

  Thankfully the carpet of the office muffled the mouse sounds, and I walked into the centre of the room. The hush was broken only by the click of the door closing.

  ‘Interesting room.’ Zoe circled, taking it all in, crushing the thick carpets. A new side table, still with its label boasting that it was made from recycled veneer, was placed by the door. Art had dedicated one whole wall to a disturbing display of photos of himself. The room’s confusion of styles was crowned by a six-foot marble water feature that gargled in the corner, gold cherubs spouting jets into the air.

  Zoe’s hair was its normal wild self, but she hadn’t conformed with my order yesterday to ‘be smart’. The black skirt, cut below the knee, was formal, but her vibrant green shirt was so bright. It wasn’t appropriate, but it was too late now. My ‘smart’ suit was overdue a trip to the cleaners, and the backs of my trousers looked like a bad case of crow’s feet wrinkles.

  ‘I was expecting hi-tech gadgets and modern furniture. Not… this,’ I said.

  ‘I know, right?’

  I touched one of the high-backed chairs that were facing the desk. The burgundy leather looked a little distressed but was wonderfully soft and supple. ‘They’re made to look old.’ I loved the smell – it reminded me of a new car from years ago, before everything went faux.

  Zoe rubbed her hand on the arm of the other chair. ‘Wow, super soft. They must have cost loads.’

  ‘It’s not like iMe can’t afford it,’ I said, my anger returning. ‘Art making us wait like this is emphasising his importance and that we’re only the police. He’s saying we don’t matter to him.’

  ‘He’s basically in charge of everything, Boss, so you can’t be surprised if he’s a bit late. And the meeting was arranged at the last minute.’

&n
bsp; ‘If he thinks he’s above the law just because–’ The door opening broke my rant before it really got started.

  The man was instantly recognisable, even if he did look about five inches shorter than he did on the TV. Although his hair was short, black and clean, something in his manner made me think of slick hair oil.

  ‘Art Walker, sorry to keep you.’ He sauntered to his desk. Definitely not apologetic. His immaculate suit was complemented by a sombre tie and a sly smile. ‘I was with the prime minister.’

  I introduced Zoe and myself. Second nature made me hunt through my pockets and dig out an old business card that was as crumpled as my suit. I held it out towards Art, but he smirked and left my hand dangling. Shaking his head, he said, ‘Exchange contact details.’ His ID flashed up on my HUD.

  I dropped the card on his desk. ‘I believe Chief Superintendent Bhatt called you yesterday.’

  Art fussed with the adjustments on his techno-chair as we slipped into the high-backed ones. He must have set his chair high because he was able to look down his nose at me. ‘Nisha did call me. She said something important had come up. That’s why I agreed to squeeze you in.’

  ‘We’re here to ask about Ms Karina Morgan. She’s missing.’

  Art rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. ‘Why would an old case be important now?’

  ‘No, this is current. She went missing yesterday.’

  Art stared above our heads at the wall covered by his photos. ‘That’s simply not possible.’

  I looked at Zoe. ‘Karina Morgan, female, mid-twenties. She works as a Sentiment designer. Her boyfriend reported her missing when he got home after work yesterday,’ she said.

  ‘You should track her. My staff can help you if it’s too difficult.’ He started to rise as if to leave.

  Did this guy think we hadn’t tracked her? ‘Obviously, we’ve done that.’ A little sarcasm in my voice. ‘That’s why we need to talk to you.’