by Mel Odom
“Three people got killed in that explosion.”
“Did you find them? Did anyone come forward and mention them?”
Karanjai heaved a sigh of disgust. “No.”
“Then we don’t have bodies to work with. And do I need to remind you that the warehouse district is beyond the NAPD’s purview unless pursuing a fugitive?”
“No, Counselor.”
“Good. Let’s be glad we’ve got something here to work with. If we can tie this back to Gordon Holder’s murder, we might have something.”
Karanjai looked at her. “This ties back to Gordon Holder and Skorpios Defense Systems. You know that, and I know that.”
Clarksdale gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “This isn’t about what you and I know, Captain. It’s about what we can prove. Let’s go talk to your witness.”
* * *
We outnumbered Boc three to one when we took our seats at the interview table. I didn’t think it mattered. He’d already retreated into himself, afraid of everything that was coming his way and knowing that he had no real control over those events.
Clarksdale placed her PAD on the table and virtual files and folders scrolled out across the surface in front of her. She set her coffee to one side, then took a moment to move her files around with quick gestures. The movement was almost hypnotic and Boc followed it. After a moment, she stopped and caught Boc’s eyes.
“Mr. Boc, I am Assistant District Attorney Clarksdale of Heinlein’s District Attorney’s Office.”
Boc nodded. His gaze flicked to me for a moment, but I had nothing to give him. He looked back at Clarksdale.
“Okay.”
“Who were you working for at the warehouse?”
“Vulcan Technologies.”
“In what capacity?”
“Security guard.”
Clarksdale made a gesture and a note appeared on the transcript that scrolled through her PAD virtual projector. “How long had you been employed there?”
“Eight months.”
“During those eight months, were you aware of the illegal munitions plant operating in the back of the warehouse?”
For a moment, Boc froze. Then he looked back at me, dropped his eyes, and nodded.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Boc. Could you speak aloud for the recorder?”
Sitting up straighter, Boc cleared his throat. He was staring at the point of no return. “Yes. Yes, I was aware they were making weapons back there.”
Clarksdale made another gesture. “How long did you know they were making illegal weapons?”
“From the time they hired me.” Boc wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “They trusted me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Because they were paying you well.”
“They told me they would kill me if I ever told anyone.”
“You believed them?”
“Yeah. I still do. That’s why I’m depending on you guys for protection. Like your detective pointed out, I step out onto the street after being held here, they’re gonna want to know if I talked. Then, even if I say I didn’t, they’re not gonna believe me. The only way to take away anything I might have said is to get rid of me.”
“We’ll still have the confession today.”
Getting a little braver, or more desperate, I couldn’t tell, Boc leaned across the table and stared at the ADA. “You and me both know a recorded confession don’t play in the courtroom nearly as well as having somebody in that witness chair pointing fingers.”
Clarksdale left him hanging for a moment, then gave him a small smile. “That’s true, Mr. Boc. That’s why I’m here tonight. To make certain you’re taken care of.”
Boc grinned and looked a little relieved.
“Tell me, Mr. Boc, who at Vulcan Technologies hired you?”
“Guy didn’t give me his name.”
Clarksdale’s facial expression didn’t change, but her body shifted slightly. She didn’t like the answer. She needed names. Knowing Vulcan Technologies was ultimately owned by Skorpios Defense Systems was something, but it wasn’t enough. “How many times did you see this man?”
“Just once. Never before, never after.”
“How were you paid?”
“Unmarked direct-cache.”
That was no help either. Unmarked credsticks were used to fund illegal enterprises all the time. They were made to be disposable. The corps used them to pay off bribes as well. No matter how well-ordered an economy might be, the desire for undisclosed cash remained important.
Hiding her disappointment, Clarksdale continued her interview.
* * *
Two hours later, Boc’s voice was turning hoarse and we’d been going over the same facts again and again. Clarksdale was satisfied that we had gotten everything Boc knew.
We gathered in the observation room again. Karanjai and Clarksdale looked fatigued. Royo appeared worn out as well. Rachel Beckman stood at the back of the room and looked as alert as ever.
Boc remained in the interview room, slumped back in his chair, his manacled hands lifted to shield his eyes from the light in the room.
Karanjai nursed a cup of coffee and looked at Clarksdale. “Okay, we got this much. Boc says he was working for Vulcan Technologies. We know Vulcan Technologies is owned by Skorpios. Can we dig into them now?”
Clarksdale stared at the prisoner in the other room thoughtfully. “Not enough. We can put up a motion to investigate. Their attorneys will file a motion to suppress. I’ll eventually get that overturned, but the time is going to give Skorpios ample opportunity to clean up their mess. At best we’ll get some bottom feeders they throw out to chum the waters. What I want is the gunrunning organization. You don’t have any idea who was buying the weapons or where they were being sent?”
“Not yet.” Karanjai rubbed the back of his neck with a big hand. “We’re still working on it.”
An idea occurred to me. I excused myself and returned to the interview room.
Boc looked up at me from under his hands. “What?” His eyes were wide with anxiety.
“Another question occurred to me.” I placed my hand over the projector and pulsed vid into the system, bringing up the footage of the exploding tube car in the tunnel.
Boc watched the action with interest. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Have you seen this footage before?”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t anything to me. You guys say that Skorpios Defense Systems owns Vulcan Technologies, but that was news to me.”
I halted the vid at the point where I recognized Kenny Ichiro. I enhanced the image and rendered it easier to see.
“Do you know this man?”
Boc frowned. “You’re not going to be able to hang all of this on me. When Gordon Holder got blown up, I was in Grumman’s with a few friends.”
Discovering the truth of that would be easy enough to do. “Take another look at this man. I don’t think you were there. I just want to know if you recognize him.”
Leaning closer, Boc studied the face, then surprise relaxed his features. “Yeah, yeah, I do. Kenny something.”
“How do you know him?”
“He used to work at the warehouse.”
“‘Used to’?”
“Yeah. He quit to go back to mercenary work.”
“Mercenary work where?”
“The colonies. Guy was all anti-Earth and pro-Mars. I don’t know much about him. He didn’t talk much. But I got the impression he grew up over there.”
“In the colonies?”
“Yeah. Him and his partner.”
“What partner?”
Boc shrugged. “Gunter something. Begemann, maybe.”
I ran Gunter Begemann through the NAPD databases, paired with Martian colonies and mercenary. I got an immediate hit, but a thin file. Begemann had only had a few legal entanglements. He’d been arrested once for carrying a concealed weapon, a knife, and twice for fights that had broken out in bars. All three of those had been while he’d been
on Earth.
He wasn’t wanted on the Moon.
Till now.
I faced Boc. “You’re certain about the identification?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Boc nodded vigorously. “Those two guys, they were tight. They’d been in some mercenary outfit together over on Mars. They had the same tattoo.”
My mind raced, picking up pieces that suddenly scattered in my thoughts. “What kind of tattoo?”
“Weird thing. Some kind of animal. It had three heads.”
“A lion. A goat. And a serpent.”
Boc nodded again. “Yeah. That was it.”
I went back through Ichiro and Begemann’s files, searching for any mention of the chimera tattoo. There wasn’t one.
“Does that help?”
“It does.”
Boc hooked a finger into his collar. “Any chance of me getting something to eat soon?”
“Yes.” I turned and left, my thoughts spinning.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Good catch on the identification.” Karanjai watched me carefully when I walked back into the observation room. “How did you know that Boc would know that guy?”
“I didn’t. I was wondering how the hijacking crew would know about the shipment that day. It was possible that one of the people working at the warehouse could have leaked the information, but if that was true, more hijackings would have taken place.”
“If those men knew they were going to be able to hit Gordon Holder and that shipment that day, there’s only one way they knew he was going to be held in a hostage situation.”
“They arranged that as well.”
“Wait.” Clarksdale raised a hand. “You guys are going too fast. You’re saying these two guys, Ichiro and Begemann, worked at the warehouse to learn about the operation?”
Karanjai shook his head. “No. They knew about the operation. Otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten jobs there.”
“So what was the objective? The weapons?”
“Possibly.”
“Then why not take them from the warehouse?”
Karanjai paced a little as he thought. “Maybe they thought hitting the warehouse would have been more dangerous.”
“More dangerous than robbing an exploded tube car in a tunnel that was spewing atmosphere into vacuum?”
“No.” Rachel’s voice came from the back of the room. “Mercs didn’t hit the warehouse because they chose not to.”
Clarksdale gazed at Rachel, then shifted her attention to Karanjai. “Who is she?”
Rachel started to say something, then held back. She crossed her arms and leaned a rounded hip against the wall.
Karanjai didn’t look happy. “A special consultant I brought in to help with this investigation. Rachel Beckman.”
Clarksdale kept her face like stone, revealing no expression as she looked back at Rachel. “I’ve heard your father is a good man.”
Rachel smirked at the other woman.
Karanjai cleared his throat. “Rachel, maybe you want to continue telling us what you think.”
Keeping her focus on Clarksdale, Rachel shrugged. “If you think that will be all right.”
“It will be. Why do you think the mercenaries chose not to hit the warehouse?”
“Could be they didn’t want to kill the goose laying the golden eggs. For all we know, this isn’t the only weapons shipment that merc unit has cherry-picked off Vulcan Technologies. Or Skorpios Defense Systems. Maybe they’ve been taking down a shipment here and there.”
I followed her line of logic. “Then why go after the one in the tube? That was high profile. Ichiro got recognized, and now we have Begemann.”
“Could be they were trying to save the goose that laid the golden eggs, too. If those crates had weapons intended for the black market in them, and I think we all believe they did, so if you don’t, stop me…”
No one stopped her.
“Circumstances being what they were, could be the mercs felt like they had no choice except to go after the weapons and try to get them clear of the situation before the police found out. That way the warehouse had a chance of staying out of the limelight.” Rachel nodded at me. “They couldn’t have counted on Drake being there and getting the cargo manifest, much less being able to track it down.”
Karanjai thought about the scenario for a moment, then nodded. He looked at Clarksdale, and she grudgingly nodded assent as well.
“Oh, don’t let the fun end there, people.” Rachel grinned. “There’s another twist you guys haven’t considered yet.”
“What?” Clarksdale didn’t appear entertained.
“Could be your mercs set the bomb on-board the tube car to kill Gordon Holder and reveal the warehouse munitions plant so they could go into business for themselves. With all the tension in the colonies, black market weapons are extremely profitable. Otherwise Skorpios Defense Systems wouldn’t have been so willing to get their hands dirty.”
She had a point, and everyone in the room knew it.
Karanjai scowled. “So we’re possibly busting our humps to make a case against Skorpios, which isn’t going to be easy, so some other illegal munitions plant can set up shop here?” He shook his head, then looked at Royo, Rachel, and me. “You guys have done some good work here. I’m going to keep you out of the eyes of the media.”
Royo reluctantly accepted that, but didn’t say anything.
“In the meantime, we’ve still got a weapons shipment out there that needs to be found. Skorpios has a client base out there as well. If we track those people down, maybe we can find this mercenary group as well. Go home and get some rest. Let’s hit it again tomorrow.”
* * *
Royo and I headed out of HQ together. The tunnels were already starting to brighten with “day” as the light sources were turned back up. Pedestrian traffic had picked up as the first-shifters headed into their respective jobs, filing into the tube stations. The familiar vibrations of the tube trains rolled underfoot.
Rachel followed behind us at a discreet distance. She no longer wore the dress she’d had on the previous night. Someone had brought her casual street clothes. Now she wore pants, a form-fitting dark grey blouse, and an olive-colored fatigue jacket. She also wore considerably more weapons that she had the night before. From her position, she could see all around us.
Royo’s hand didn’t move far from the pistol holstered at his hip. “Drake, look.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Maybe I need to apologize. I haven’t exactly been there for you in this investigation.”
That was true, but I chose not to point that out.
“It’s just that it’s not easy being your partner, you know.”
I nodded. “The discomfort humans have with working with bioroids is a well-documented problem. I am well aware of that.”
“No. The bioroid thing isn’t the problem. I mean, it is, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
“I don’t understand.”
Royo sighed. “You’re faster than me, Drake. At everything. You think faster. You move faster. You know the law better than me. I’m human. I’m supposed to be able to outthink the criminals we go up against. Instead, you’re doing that.” He looked up at me. “It’s just hard to look good standing next to you. Know what I mean?”
I did. “I apologize. I did not know you felt this way.”
“Yeah, well, I do.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Royo grinned and slipped his sunglasses from his pocket to put them on against the bright “morning” glare. “Maybe not be so good at your job?”
“That would be counter-productive to our assignments.”
“I know.”
“And if I let you get killed, I don’t think you would forgive me.”
Confused, Royo looked up at me.
Rachel laughed aloud and we heard her clearly over the comm-links. “That was a joke, Royo.”
Sheepishly, Royo grimaced. “I didn’t know you did humor.”
“So how did you and your old partner manage working together?”
“It wasn’t easy. As I have seen around the police department, partnerships are never easy. She had strengths. I had strengths. We were stronger together than we were apart. Both of us realized that.”
Royo and I walked in silence for a while before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about your partner, Drake. I heard a lot of good things about her. And you. Losing her must have been difficult.”
“It still is.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rachel returned with me to the small apartment I kept. She was appalled when she saw there was no furniture in the living room. I didn’t need furniture. No one ever visited and I could stand all day without getting fatigued. Back in my old apartment, I had gotten furniture for times when Shelly came over and we talked about cases. I had even had toys for times when she’d brought her children. Those were packed away in storage.
She looked up at me. “Tell me you’ve got a bed.”
“Sorry. Perhaps you would be more comfortable in your own home.”
“No. I told Karanjai I would look out for you personally while you pursued this investigation.” She took out her PAD and made a quick call to someone she didn’t name. Then she looked at me again. “And I’ll bet you don’t have anything here to eat, either.”
“I don’t eat.”
“Don’t you entertain?”
“No. I work.”
“You should think about entertaining. I mean, now that you’re cracking jokes with Royo and everything. You guys could get yourselves a couple of puppets and be the life of the party.”
I was confused and trying to sort out what she’d just said while she walked away, ordering takeout from a nearby Thai restaurant. By the time she returned less than a minute later, I realized she was just being sarcastic.
She stood in the center of the living room and looked at me. I looked back at her. She shook her head. “We’re standing here in the middle of the room, looking at each other, with nowhere to sit. Don’t you see anything wrong with this?”