Salvation

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Salovitz walked in. “Sit, please.”

  Renzi gave the air-con grille a last look and reluctantly sat at the table opposite Salovitz.

  “Would you like a lawyer present?” Salovitz asked. “If you don’t have one, a public defender will be appointed. If you do not have insurance coverage, you will be liable for their costs.”

  “Am I under arrest? I didn’t get read no rights.”

  “No, this isn’t an arrest; for now you are a material witness.”

  “For what?”

  “Tell me about the Sea Star III.”

  “That’s a sweet yacht. I run service on it sometimes.” He smiled broadly, putting on the Latino strut.

  “Ali,” Salovitz said the name like he was calling out a fifth grader.

  “What?”

  “Let me give you some free advice here. You don’t have a criminal record, and I can see you’re basically a decent guy, so don’t get me pissed. Understand?”

  “What’s up, man? I service it. I told you.”

  “We track you down at two in the morning and bring you all the way up here, where I ask you about a yacht you serviced yesterday morning, and you tell me: sometimes? You need to start pumping up your IQ. Because serious doesn’t even begin to cover this.”

  “Pump my what?”

  “Get smart, Ali. What happened to the Sea Star?”

  “The gearing, man. The diagnostics redlined. It was towed to dry dock. The company’s working on it.”

  “Shit, you’re just not listening, are you? Okay, then, this is how it’s going to go now. You talking to me, telling me what I need to know; that results in the precinct giving you breakfast and letting you go. No charges, and our thanks for assisting us in a multiple homicide.”

  “Multip—what?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Salovitz’s fist slammed down on the table. “I’m talking. Now if you don’t cooperate, I will tie you in to this, and you’ll be facing an accomplice charge—and probably conspiracy, too. For this crime—seven bodies that we’ve found so far—you’ll be straight to Zagreus, and not the good end of the canyon.”

  “No fucking way, man! I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “In law, complicity is the same as participating.”

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Good. So now I have a question for you, and you’re gonna think hard about this, because I’m laying it out real simple. If I run a search through your accounts, which I haven’t done yet because you’re being a concerned, helpful citizen at this point, but if I run one, will I find an unexplained cash payment paid in recently? Take your time, and think. The rest of your life depends how you answer.”

  Renzi seemed to have gotten over his wintery cold. Sweat was breaking out across his forehead, and his skin was turning pale so fast Alik considered he could have had chameleon genes. “Yeah,” Renzi said, not making eye contact with Salovitz. “Friend of a friend, he helped me out. These are bad times, you know. The economy.”

  Salovitz put his card down on the table like he was a Vegas pro about to scoop the cash. “Look at the faces, Ali. Are any of them the friend of a friend?”

  Renzi glanced down. “Jesus!” He slapped a hand over his mouth as his cheeks bulged.

  “Keep looking,” Salovitz ordered.

  The card was showing him all the bodies in situ. In the cases of Perigine Lexi and Koushick Flaviu, a mug shot from records was shown, to clarify their identity.

  “That one,” Renzi said, and turned away.

  “Koushick Flaviu?”

  “He said his name was Dylan.”

  “And what did you do for him?”

  “Rigged the diagnostic. He wanted to be sure nobody was going anywhere on the Sea Star this weekend. Getting it out of the water was the easy answer.”

  “When did you meet him?”

  “He turned up at my condo that morning. He knew who I was, what I did, everything. Man, you don’t say no to people like that! And it didn’t hurt nobody.”

  Salovitz’s finger casually circled the card. “Nobody hurt, huh?”

  “You know what I mean, man! I didn’t do anything. This isn’t down to me.”

  “Maybe. Now, what else did this guy who called himself Dylan say?”

  “He didn’t say anything, just to disable the yacht. I swear, man! I swear it; on my mother’s grave.”

  “Did he say why he wanted it out of the water?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “So have you ever done favors like this for people before?”

  “No, man, no way.”

  “You want to ask him anything?” Salovitz asked Alik through the precinct link.

  “No. I’ll have the Bureau run a full background review on him. If he’s clean, you can bounce him out of here after breakfast.”

  * * *

  —

  While Salovitz was tidying up in the interview room, Alik put a call in to Tansan, his Capitol Hill contact. They’d met two decades ago and formed a mutually beneficial relationship. There were small discreet favors asked for, and since then Alik had enjoyed a smooth ride inside the Bureau, with clearance almost level with the director. And some of the things he knew, the director wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with.

  “It was a well-organized operation,” Alik told Tansan. “To start with, at least. But I’m puzzled why a low-level New York gang is trying to bust its way into Pentagon ultra files.”

  “You may have to go and ask them.”

  “That could get difficult. I suspect they’ll be nervous right about now, what with their brothers in arms being butchered, and all.”

  “Do you need backup? I have some dark funds available if you need to hire the appropriate experts.”

  “I’m going to see where this investigation leads for a while. It’s a very odd coincidence, both crews turning up at the same time. And if you do want to bust Pentagon ultra files, you don’t hire a a bunch of New York punks because that’s who these assholes were. I have to find out who escaped through Antarctica. They might have some answers.”

  “Very well. Keep me informed. I need to know who wanted those files, and why.”

  * * *

  —

  Alik ran through all the dead gang members again and decided the weakest link was likely to be Adrea Halfon, Perigine Lexi’s squeeze. Some of the girls who attached themselves with connected guys could be tougher than their men. This one? Alik had a hunch she was one of the other kind: brittle and dependent. Perigine had lifted her out of the gutter. He was her world; without him she was nothing. If he and Salovitz could just get to her before Javid-Lee sent anyone around…

  Alik and Salovitz walked along the south radial out of Manhattan, then took the 32nd loop to the Manhattan Beach Park hub. They almost called a two-seat cabez, but it had stopped snowing by then, so the pair of them walked west along Oriental Boulevard.

  “So you think it was a kidnapping?” Salovitz asked. “Rayner went to a lot of effort to fuck up the Lorenzos’ weekend. That crew wanted them at the portalhome.”

  “And Javid-Lee’s crew thought they were going to be out on a yacht, so the portalhome would be empty. Which is why they both wound up in Central Park West together. But I don’t think it was a kidnapping.”

  “What then?”

  “Access to the Anaka, Devial, Mortalo and Lorenzo network requires some biometrics. Having Kravis present in the flesh would’ve been a big help to Koushick. His gear had biometric readers. Plus, if you’re holding Kravis’s family, that gives you plenty of leverage.”

  “So it was all about busting the files?”

  “Could be, for the Rayner crew. But that still doesn’t tell us where the Lorenzos are now.”

  They turned in to Dover Street just after three o’clock in the morning. Nothing else was moving
, not even street cleanez. The snow was thick under Alik’s feet, crunching down under his soles.

  It was a decent neighborhood; the houses all had neat yards, several with boats parked outside. Perigine’s was halfway along; the only one with its lights on.

  Salovitz took the steps up onto the little porch and pressed the doorbell. The house network asked for identification, which their altmes supplied.

  Adrea Halfon opened the door and peered out nervously. She’d been crying. “Yeah?” Her voice was soft, catching in her throat.

  “NYPD, ma’am,” Salovitz said. “May we come in?”

  She didn’t say anything, just backed in and left the door open. Alik and Salovitz followed her. They looked ahead, then looked at each other, careful to remain expressionless, then looked ahead again. Adrea’s housecoat was a loose weave of black lace, lined with fluffy purple feathers—a Schrödinger masterpiece in being dressed and undressed at the same time. Perigine had found her in one of Javid-Lee’s clubs, and she’d obviously thanked him for getting her out by keeping in the exact same shape that had captured him in the first place. Seeing Adrea in the flesh, Alik was certain he’d made the right choice; the smell of insecurity was as strong as her perfume.

  “I have some bad news, ma’am,” Salovitz said when they were in the living room. The place was as brash as Alik had expected. Somebody whose taste came straight out of Hong Kong virtuals had been given too much money and license to create their dream home. Everything clashed—colors, furniture, ornaments, pictures; he counted styles from at least four different eras.

  Adrea nodded, a single sharp jerk of the head. She already knew. “What’s that, officer?”

  “Your partner, Perigine Lexi. I’m afraid our officers have found him dead. My sympathies.”

  She sank into a heavily cushioned couch and reached for the tumbler on the marble table beside it. A bottle of cheap bourbon was already open. “That’s terrible,” she said.

  “The way he died, yeah,” Alik agreed. “Terrible.”

  She shot him a fearful glance. “How…?”

  “He was in the wrong place in the wrong time with the wrong people. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”

  “I don’t know where he was tonight. He said he was meeting some friends in a bar.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a manager at Sidereal Urban Management.”

  Alik read the file Shango splashed for him. “City cleanup company, huh? Sidereal has the contract for Gravesend and Sheepshead Bay?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.” Her hand shook as she took another slug of bourbon.

  “Strange, we found him in an uptown apartment. He was robbing the place.”

  “I don’t know nothing about that.”

  “One of the people with him, we think it’s Duane Nordon. Would you mind identifying him for me, please?” He held up his card.

  “Sure.” She glanced at the image of Duane’s frozen bloodless face and screamed. Ran out of the room. Alik and Salovitz stared meaningfully at each other to the soundtrack of violent retching.

  A couple of minutes later Adrea reappeared in the doorway, clutching her housecoat tightly closed; something it just wasn’t built for. “You son of a bitch!”

  “Yes, ma’am. There were two crews hit that apartment, and they ripped each other apart like sharks on acid. Your Perigine, he got lucky; a clean shot. Duane, not so much.”

  Her hand went to her mouth as the tears dripped down her cheeks.

  “They took out two of the other crew,” Alik continued relentlessly, “but one of them got away. Any idea who Rayner would use for a job like this?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “You think Javid-Lee is your friend? That he’ll do right by you? Right now he’s looking to cover his ass. So you tell me what you think is going to happen if we take you along to the twentieth precinct and hold you there for a couple of days. I can do that—you’ll be a custodial witness, so there’s no charge filed. That means you don’t get Miranda rights, so no lawyer for twenty-four hours.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” she protested as she sank back into the couch.

  “We might need to check that. But it doesn’t matter, because Javid-Lee is going to want to know what you said for two days before we let his lawyer in to see you. He’ll want to know pretty bad. And if you keep telling him nothing, is he going to believe you, do you think?”

  She was really sobbing now, staring up at Alik with more hatred than a whole KKK chapter. “Bastard. I hope your balls get cancer and it creeps up your spine!”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. On the other hand, we came down here to inform you of Perigine’s death, just like the city requires. We stayed a few minutes and left when it was obvious you weren’t giving us squat. Do you think that would play better?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

  “Perigine didn’t say much. I only heard about it after the fire.”

  “What fire?”

  “The Blueshift Starlight Lounge. It’s one of Javid-Lee’s places.”

  “Where you worked?” Salovitz asked.

  “I don’t do that no more,” she said petulantly. “And I never danced there; it’s on the way down, you know? But I knew a couple of girls who wound up there.”

  “When was this fire?” I asked.

  “A couple of days back. The fire started in the kitchen. Supposed to be an accident, but everyone knew that was bull. Peri said Javid-Lee knew it was Rayner that ordered it along with whacking Riek. That’s when Javid told Peri to take care of the Farrons to equalize things with Rayner, you know? He can’t afford to show any weakness, not after two strikes against him. You let that go, people think you’re weak, and next thing you just vanish. He had to send a message, a loud one.”

  “Wait,” Alik said. “Go back. Who the fuck is Riek?”

  “He was small-time, right at the bottom of Javid-Lee’s organization. But Peri said he did a shakedown for Javid-Lee a couple of days before. Next thing we know, he’s being pulled out of the marina—same day as the Blueshift fire.”

  “What did Riek do? Who was the shakedown?”

  “I don’t know—just that it was one of Rayner’s people. Whatever it was, it got Rayner pissed at Riek. That ain’t exactly hard.”

  “And the Farrons? Who are they?”

  “The people Peri was going to take care of to get Javid-Lee back level again.”

  “So Javid-Lee and Rayner are at war? How long’s this been going on?”

  She shrugged. “This week. Peri’s been coming home late; he’s been like in this real filthy temper the whole time. It’s always respect with the boys. You gotta show respect. If you don’t, if you step out of line, you get sent a message. That’s how it’s always been.”

  * * *

  —

  The Dover Street air was cold and rich with the sharp scent of the Atlantic that lurked a few hundred meters away. Alik inhaled deeply, hopeful it would be like some kind of cleansing agent. “These sons of bitches, they still live in the Middle Ages.”

  Salovitz chuckled. “You lowering yourself, coming down here from DC?”

  “Nah,” Alik admitted. “It’s plenty more savage there. Maybe less blood, but twice as much pain.”

  “Amen to that, my friend. So what now?”

  “This still isn’t making a whole load of sense,” Alik complained as they started walking back down the street. Shango splashed the NYPD report on Riek Patterson, who had been pulled out of the Caesar’s Bay Marina two days ago. He couldn’t swim. Well, Alik admitted, it would be difficult for anyone with fifty kilos of metal chain wrapped around their legs. On the same day, the district fire crew was called out to a kitchen fire in the Blueshift Starlight L
ounge. “Okay,” he said, lining it up in his head. “Whatever Riek did, Rayner was psycho enough about it to order two hits in retaliation. Javid-Lee counters by sending Perigine’s crew to take out the Farrons, whoever the fuck they are. Then Perigine winds up in the Lorenzo portalhome, getting his ass blown off by Rayner’s crew, who are also running a file bust there at the same time.”

  “Still think it’s coincidence?”

  “I have no idea what to think.”

  “Don’t tell me. You need more information?”

  “You think you don’t?” Alik shot back. Then Shango splashed the weirdest file of the night. “Holy shit!”

  “What?”

  He shared the file. “Delphine Farron is the Lorenzos’ housekeeper.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Salovitz barked.

  “Access the fucking file.”

  “So who do you want to talk to next?”

  “Wait one.” Shango pinged Delphine Farron’s code. No reply. Her altme was off grid. “Uh oh. Get a uniform squad ’round to their address, right now.”

  “Christ. I’m on it.”

  “Is that why Perigine was ’round at the Lorenzos’ place?” Alik wondered out loud. “Hunting the Farron woman?” Then he read further down the file Shango had harvested on Delphine Farron. “Oh, this just keeps getting better. Look at this shit; Delphine is Rayner’s second cousin.”

  “This can’t be right,” Salovitz said. “If Perigine had whacked the Farron woman in the portalhome, we’d have found her body.”

  “Not if they went for a walk in the Antarctic,” I said. “We barely found the next portalhouse room.”

  “Perigine and his crew weren’t wearing polar gear.”

  “Yeah,” Alik admitted sourly. “Good point. Ask the precinct to get Connexion’s log on Delphine Farron. I want to know where she is.”

  They reached the Manhattan Beach Park hub as Alik finished reviewing Riek Patterson’s file. “Change of plan,” he announced. “We’re going to west Brooklyn.”

  “For what?”

  “Pay our respects to the widow Patterson.”