by C. B. Lewis
Her smile returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He knew he was pushing his luck. “If it helps,” she said and reached for the phone hub.
Within five minutes, they were in the elevator, on their way down.
Jacob didn’t know what he expected from the technical department. Mrs. Ashraf led him along a corridor lined with glass walls, and on the other side of the glass, he could see workbenches. Some were stacked with tools. Others were covered in small machines in various states of repair. The largest one had a complex array of circuits and wires covering almost the whole surface.
The room was deserted, and he found out why when he was led into a conference room.
About twenty people were seated at a long table. There was a mix of ages and genders, and almost every one of them looked around with wary expectation when he entered. Among them, he recognized one: Kit Rafferty, who raised a hand in greeting.
Jacob only nodded in response.
Of all the people in the room, Rafferty was the only one who didn’t look sick with nervousness.
Jacob was used to that reaction. Twenty years on the force had taught him there were always people who would be wary in the presence of the police, especially if there was an active investigation ongoing. He had never seen it in a whole room of people, though. There should have been no reason. After all, he was only investigating the disappearance of their colleague. There was no reason so many people should look uneasy at his presence, unless they had something to hide.
There was the conundrum: Did each of them have something to hide individually, or was it the TRI as a whole that was trying to keep secrets? He was more inclined to believe the latter, but whatever it was, they were doing a damned good job of keeping it under wraps.
Mrs. Ashraf went to the head of the table, and he stepped alongside her.
“Everyone,” she said, “this is DI Jacob Ofori. He’s the police officer in charge of the investigation into Tom’s disappearance. He has some images from Tom’s house and needs to know if they’re relevant to the case. You’ve all worked with Tom’s notes before, so we need you to have a look at them for us. Detective Inspector?”
There was a projector on a stand by the wall. Jacob connected his slate to it. The images lit up on the blank wall at the far end of the room, showing the whiteboards and the intricate display of numbers and letters. The technicians and engineers all turned to look at it.
Jacob watched them in turn.
From the first glance, it was clear none of them had seen it before. A couple of people were frowning, as if they couldn’t quite work out what they were looking at. Two exchanged glances and shook their heads.
Jacob’s eyes flicked to Kit. Of course, he knew Rafferty was a technician, but he hadn’t expected the babbling, blushing young man from the lift to be so focused. He had one hand thrust into his shaggy red hair and was staring at the board so intently, it looked like he was trying to bore a hole in it.
“Any suggestions?” Mrs. Ashraf’s voice broke the silence.
“It’s encoded,” one man said. “Sanders sometimes did that. You’d need a key to crack it.”
A woman near him nodded. “He usually only did that if it wasn’t finished, just in case someone tried to use whatever he was doing and it went tits up.”
Other voices supported this theory, and he nodded as if he were listening.
One eye, however, remained on Rafferty.
Rafferty’s eyes were still on the board. The hand in his hair was curling slowly, and the fingertips of his other hand were drumming against his lips. He looked like he was whispering to himself, and his eyebrows were drawing together in a furrow.
“What about Mr. Rafferty?” Jacob finally asked.
Every head in the room turned toward the man, who didn’t even notice.
The woman beside him nudged him sharply.
“Shit!” Rafferty spun back around, his hair rumpled in all directions. He looked like a startled puppy caught pissing on the carpet. He looked around warily, every eye on him. “What?”
“DI Ofori was wondering if you have any idea what we’re looking at.” Mrs. Ashraf’s voice was cool.
Rafferty blinked. “It’s coded.”
“We gathered that much.” Jacob leaned forward, his hands braced on the desk. “So, Mr. Rafferty, do you know what it’s about?”
Rafferty’s face was rapidly going red. His blue eyes darted around the table. “Um. No.” He tangled his hands together. “I mean, if I had the key, I might be able to work it out. But Mr. Sanders didn’t let us keep a copy of the key.” He offered Jacob a wary smile. “Um. Sorry.”
Jacob straightened up, releasing a drawn-out breath. It had been worth a shot at least. “Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll leave you to your work.” He disconnected his slate and looked back at Mrs. Ashraf. “Shall we return to your office?”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
Chapter 6
AS SOON as the police officer and Mariam left the room, Kit bolted for the door.
The elevators were off-limits anyway, since Ofori and Mariam would be using them, so he ran for the stairs. He needed something to eat. Something heavy to settle his knotting stomach. Jesus. He hadn’t eaten since last night anyway, and now it was coming back to bite him. He really, really didn’t want to throw up a bellyful of coffee in front of everyone.
The breakfast trays were being cleared away in the canteen, but he managed to snag the last sausages and some of the toast and beans. He filled a mug with tar-thick tea and spooned four heaps of sugar into it before stumbling to sit down at the nearest table.
His hand was shaking as he shoveled the food into his mouth, gulping it down.
He heard the chair opposite him scrape the floor as it was pulled out, but didn’t even lift his eyes from his plate. It helped, focusing on the eating. His heart slowed from a rapid whine to a steadier beat, and his fork clattered on the plate.
Kit buried his face in his hands.
Of course, one downside of eating quickly to stop himself feeling sick was that if he ate too quickly, he felt sick in a completely different way.
His mug slid across the table.
He peered between his fingers.
“You should drink,” Sally Patil said, nudging the mug closer with her fingertips. “It’ll help.”
When the TRI psychiatrist offered free advice, it was a foolish man who didn’t take it. He reluctantly lowered his hands, pulling the mug toward him like a talisman. “What did I do to earn an intervention?”
Sally grinned at him. “You let the door slam closed in my face. I’m here to make you feel incredibly guilty about it.” She spread her hands on her very pregnant belly. “How could you be so mean to a poor, gravid woman?”
Kit winced. “Ah. Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
She raised her eyebrows, then pointedly looked down at her cerise kaftan and conspicuous bump. “Yes, I can see how I would be easy to miss.” She looked back up at him, frowning. “What happened?”
A small, hysterical laugh bubbled up. “Oh, you know. The usual. Forgetting to go to bed. Acting like a prize tit. Lying to the police.” He took a gulp of the tea, then hissed through his teeth. “Jesus, that’s hot!”
Sally was staring at him. “What do you mean lying to the police?”
He wrapped his hands tightly around the mug to stop them shaking. “They showed us some of Sanders’s work. Wanted to know what it was. What it meant. Hamid said we weren’t meant to tell them anything about time travel, so I told him I couldn’t read it.” He shuddered. “If they find out, I’ll be arrested for concealing evidence, won’t I? I went to university so I wouldn’t end up someone’s sex moppet in prison!”
Sally’s eyebrows were heading toward her hairline. “I’m fairly sure you won’t be locked up for saying you couldn’t read something. I mean, how on earth are they going to find out?”
Kit came up short, blinking. “I hadn’t thought about that bit.�
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She smiled. “I noticed.” A soft brown hand covered his. “Just breathe.”
He nodded. The relief hit him like he’d run into a brick wall, and he started laughing helplessly, shaking his head. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re an honest man asked to lie,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not an idiot,” he retorted. “After flirting with the policeman as well….”
Sally burst out laughing. “You have had a busy morning.”
Kit could feel his cheeks redden, but shrugged with a grin. “What? We don’t often get any good-looking specimens like that in here, and God knows I don’t get out much.”
“Don’t let Dieter hear you say that,” she cautioned.
Kit wrinkled his nose. “He wears too much makeup for my tastes,” he said.
Sally laughed, then winced as she rubbed at her back. “I wasn’t talking about him.” She pushed herself laboriously to her feet. “You insult Janos, and Dieter will gut you like a fish.”
Kit looked her up and down. “Are you sure you should still be in here? You look like you’re about to pop.”
“Two more weeks.” She patted the bump gently. “I’m looking forward to seeing my toes again.” She studied him. “Are you going to be all right if I leave you? I mean, I’ll still be leaving, because Bruiser is dancing on my bladder, but I’ll send someone along to keep you company.”
He smiled. “I’m fine. Honestly. Just embarrassed.” He raised his mug in a salute. “Thank you.”
Her smile was quick and warm. “Anytime.”
He watched her waddle toward the door, then turned his attention back to his tea. It was still hot, but not scalding now.
Less than five minutes later, the door of the canteen opened again. Kit was occupied scooping up the sugary dregs from the bottom of the mug with a spoon, but glanced up as footsteps approached his table.
“Kit.” Mariam sat down in the chair Sally had vacated.
“Mrs. Ashraf.” He set down the mug and spoon. “Am I in trouble?”
Mariam shook her head. “Not for the time being,” she said. “DI Ofori believed you when you said you couldn’t read the board.”
One day, Kit thought he would have to invent a switch that prevented him from blushing. “Um.”
Mariam was looking at him, shrewd and intent. “You know Sanders’s key.”
Kit shoved his mug back. “I’ve worked with it enough to remember it.” He met her eyes, half-defiant, half-wary.
She leaned forward urgently. “What was it?”
Kit stared at her.
For the first time since his arrival at the TRI, he knew more than anyone else. He hadn’t had time to break down everything on the board, but he’d seen enough to know that everyone at the TRI would be interested.
“If I tell you,” he said, “I want to know what happened here three years ago.”
Mariam sat back. “What do you mean?”
He gave her a flat look. “You know what I mean. Something happened, and that’s why this whole thing has got the whole TRI on edge. It isn’t just about Tom going missing. Something happened, and everyone knows, and I’m sitting here in the dark, with no idea if I’m meant to be worrying as much as everyone else.”
She drummed her fingertips on the table. “It’s not that simple.”
He folded his arms. “I think it is. You’re expecting me to break the law and lie to the police to keep this all quiet, but you don’t think I can be trusted with the whole truth? Why should I trust you with anything if you’re not going to trust me?”
“Like I said, it’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Kit demanded angrily. “Why am I expected to lie when you won’t give me the real reasons? Tom trusted me! Why doesn’t anyone else?”
Mariam pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked exhausted and frustrated, and for the first time, Kit found he didn’t give a damn. It was too much, to have the weight of the law pressing down on him and not knowing who was in the right. “Kit—”
“Everyone else who was here at the time knows,” he said. “They’re all hiding something from me. How is that fair? I’m expected to risk my career and my reputation and even bloody prison, and all I get is ‘it’s not that simple’?” He shook his head. “I can’t do it. Not when I know everyone is keeping something from me.”
Mariam lowered her hands to rest in her lap. Her expression was grave. “There are reasons you haven’t been told so far. I’ll speak to the relevant people, and if they agree, then you can be told.”
“The relevant people?” Kit shook his head. “You’re the head of the TRI now Tom’s missing. This is your call.”
She smiled briefly. “That’s where you’re wrong.” She got up from the table. “Like I said before, Kit, it isn’t a simple situation. I’ll speak to those involved, and if they agree, then you’ll be told. If they don’t, this is out of my hands.”
He pushed his chair back too. “And until then, if the police come calling again, I don’t want to be put on the spot. I’m not going to lie for you and risk everything for people who won’t even tell me the truth.”
She nodded gravely. “I understand.”
He piled his dishes onto the tray and carried it over to the trolley. Behind him, he heard Mariam walking away. He released a shaking breath when the door closed. If anyone had told him he would have been facing down the temporary head of the TRI when he’d left the house that morning, he would have laughed at them.
Of course, that was before his morning went completely to hell.
His hands were shivering as he pushed them through his hair.
Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t be easier just to go to work for some big engineering firm, designing new solutions to old problems.
Maybe it wouldn’t involve honest-to-God time travel and the kind of advanced science that almost gave him a hard-on, but it would also be quiet and boring and, most importantly, not involve crime.
Maybe.
Ha.
As long as the TRI had the most advanced technology, and the state-of-the-art equipment, and as long as he was given access to every piece of it, Kit knew he would stay. He could end up with a stomach ulcer the size of Liverpool and he would still stay.
Stupid technology.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
Time to get to work.
Chapter 7
THERE WERE no leads.
Jacob was growing frustrated.
Days were ticking by, and if there ever had been a trail, it was stone cold now. Normally, when there was a body at a crime scene, it made things simpler. This time, it was only making everything more complicated.
Their John Smith was giving them nothing.
His DNA still hadn’t been flagged up anywhere, no matter how they expanded the search. His face had been broadcast on the news, but there hadn’t even been a single call to the hotline. Even the mysterious eye, which was their last hope, was proving useless.
Danni had checked it all over for some kind of registration code or maker’s mark, but there were only two letters on the back: OT. Temple had gone through every possible company to try and identify them, but not one of them worked in synthetic bio-artificing.
They even called in the available ophthalmic specialists to examine the eye, and from the look of awed delight on the doctors’ faces, Jacob didn’t need to be told they had never seen a device like it before. They babbled eagerly about the connection, the functionality, the fact that the materials used replicated the texture of an eyeball.
All very interesting, but all useless.
They could only confirm two things: John Smith’s eye had been removed when he was very young, judging by the scar tissue, and that it would have taken a master eye surgeon to fit the eye, particularly given the intricacy of the connection to the optic nerve. Somehow, they explained, someone had managed to connect the equivalent of a tiny video camera directly into the
brain.
Jacob let Temple take them back out and sank down at his desk.
Anton rapped at the door. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.” Jacob rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips.
Anton returned two minutes later and set Jacob’s sturdy mug down in front of him. He sat down on the opposite side of the desk, his slate in his lap.
Jacob spooned sugar into the mug. “Please tell me you’ve got me some good news.” He paused, studying Anton’s expression. “Or is this cuppa just here to soften the blow?”
Anton set his slate on Jacob’s desk and pushed it across to him. “The TRI has the cleanest records I have ever seen for any company. No problems. No reports. No hazards. Every Health and Safety check has come back with top ratings. No dismissals. No tax evasions. No nothing.”
Jacob frowned. “Nothing? At all?”
Anton shook his head. “Either this is the best place to work in the world, or the whole place is powered by robot overlords.”
“Every company has something.”
“That’s what I thought,” Anton agreed. One side of his mouth turned up. “The coffee wasn’t exactly to soften the blow. It was because you’re going to need it.”
“I’ve been there.” Jacob flicked through page after page of data. “They look just like any other company. How can anyone be this clean? Unless you’re really good at hiding your dirty laundry, there’s no way this should be possible.”
“I guess that means they’re hiding their dirty laundry, then, eh?”
Jacob set the slate down and pulled the mug toward him. His time at the TRI hadn’t been productive. He and Mrs. Ashraf were both dancing around each other, giving just enough information and no more. The fact that Anton’s evidence supported his theory that they were hiding something didn’t help.
If the TRI weren’t willing to be cooperative, he would have to find some means to push them, and right now, he didn’t have it.
A search warrant would never be granted just because he was suspicious of organized records. So far, they had only got consent to look into Sanders’s own computers and files, and even those hadn’t contained anything useful.