by Colin Harvey
Kotian chuckled. "Hardly languishing. He's sitting in a comfortable interview room with his lawyer present. We've been hauled in by you enough times for it to be no big deal now. My wife, Madeleine, was scandalized the first time that it happened."
"So were her family, I'd imagine." Shah had read the file. Within five years of arriving in America, Kotian's burgeoning millions had hooked him a bride from one of Boston's patrician families.
"They've gotten over it. We married as a business arrangement, pure and simple; I had cash, but no status while her family had influence but was short of money. The marriage has persisted as a political alliance, but there's little love left." He looked at his watch and clucked. "I have to be at my office soon. Let me give you a lift – it's on my way. We can carry on talking."
Shah shook his head. "I need to be somewhere else. But thanks."
"Call again, why don't you?" Shah saw something in Kotian's eyes beside amusement, but couldn't work out what it was. Loneliness? Sympathy?
"I may do that," Shah said.
"You don't need a warrant."
Shah shrugged. "It's a good excuse."
A good excuse, Kotian thought in his office that afternoon. Is it just that, Shah?
The Dying Years – when obesity had scythed through the youngsters with diabetes and strokes and cardiac arrests – had left Kotian without contemporaries. Maybe Shah felt equally alone. My enemy's enemy is my friend, Kotian thought. Both Shah and I want this Ripper stopped. Even if my motives are different from his. Rips had been going for years, and if it were controlled, surgical in its precision, a small amount of it was good for profit – wealthy connoisseurs would pay a fortune for unusual clips. But the indiscriminate butchering that had mushroomed in the last couple of years was getting out of hand. Kotian had learned over the years not to annoy the authorities too much.
"Hi, Appa," Sunny said from the doorway. "Sleeping on the job?"
"Thinking, my boy." Kotian smiled. "A vastly underrated concept." He looked up. "They released you, then?"
"On bail. The preliminary hearing is set for tomorrow. It's all circumstantial, anyway." Sunny studied his nails. "That cop been sniffing round again?"
"Shah's been here, yes."
Sunny shook his head. "Whoever ripped him and his nigger should've finished the job properly."
"And started a murder hunt?" Sunny shrugged and Kotian said, "You don't know anything about that, do you Sunny?"
Sunny shook his head, lips pursed. "Not a thing, Appa."
"Because if it adversely impacts the business, we stop him, whoever he is." There had been too many coincidences for Kotian's liking; too many times when Sunny had been in the area. One of his no-good friends, no doubt. He never could pick them.
Kotian's son stared at him. "Of course. Whatever you say."
Why don't I find that reassuring? Kotian thought.
XXXII
The feed of an Indian family disembarking at the border with Pakistan suddenly darkened, red staining the electric-lit glare of the arrivals hall. Priority interruption, a disembodied neuter voice said. Lieutenant van Doorn calling. Take, Reject or Park?
Shah sighed, the moment broken. "Take."
"Shah, in my office. Now." Shah severed the link without bothering to confirm.
"Want to bring me up to speed, Officer?" Van Doorn said as Shah sat opposite the captain, with Bailey to one side, studiously avoiding Shah's gaze. "You divert from home to office without clearing it with me, you play gangbusters with warrants, then stay behind for a social call on the suspect's family?"
Shah uploaded a recording of the conversation with Kotian, then said, "I didn't realize I needed to ask permission to walk a different way in."
"Spare me the sarcasm." Van Doorn put out a hand, palm down. "You're convalescing, and there's always a possibility of a follow-up attack. I make no apology for watching over my men. If you're telling me that you're fully recovered, a medical officer needs to sign you off. Make an appointment with the Department of Health."
"What's this crap about gangbusters, Cap? You tell me which procedure I violated with that warrant? We got a court appointment set for Monday morning, and it'll hold. Unless the kid can show that he was working there entirely voluntarily – and the numbnut forgot to turn off his eyepiece at least once when someone mentioned his pay – we've got Sunny for employing illegal immigrants."
Van Doorn's head inclined fractionally. "OK, there were no procedural violations–"
"So what's the problem? I didn't convene a meeting in the office first and make some speeches, giving the Russkis time to leak and prime Kotian to squirrel them away?"
"There were no procedural violations," van Doorn repeated, loudly enough to make Shah pause. "But best practice says we go through the op in-house first to ensure that everyone knows their role. We got lucky this morning, but we might not again."
"Utter crap."
"Protocol," van Doorn repeated. "No more calling warrants on the hoof, summoning out SWAT teams from the street – unless you're in imminent danger. Clear?"
"Clear."
"Now," van Doorn glanced across at Bailey. "What was with the talk with Kotian?"
Shah took a deep breath. "If we get Sunny or Kotian, it'll be on a technicality, not for the attack on Marietetski and me. So to prove that it's Kotian selling memories, I need to get close to him. I can use my memory loss to get him talking about himself."
"Sounds dangerous." Bailey said hesitantly.
"He'll know that I'm taping everything, but he's happy to talk about himself. Hell, he's desperate to talk about himself. Guy has an ego the size of the old Empire State Building."
Van Doorn said, "It can't get us any less results than we've had already. We'll run it, but off the clock. You want to charm Kotian, you do it out of office hours. Got me?"
"Yep."
"Good." As they stood to go, van Doorn said, "Shah. Wait around." As Bailey left he added, "Shut the door."
Shah pushed it closed. What now?
"You've been accessing foreign sites." Van Doorn sent from his eyepiece a list; the Pan-Islamic Republics, Pan-Asia – almost every Asian country not in the PIR – Europe, Australasia, even what was left of Africa.
The captain was a stolid man not given to leaps of imagination. How to explain?
"Sir, tackling Kotian as the Department has done is never going to work. We need something completely unexpected. Learning what made Kotian tick is the only way we're going to do that, which means looking in areas outside the normal ones. Kotian has lawyers all over the net-havens, as well as the ones physically here in New York for when they need a warm body to keep him company in the interrogation room. One AI in the net-havens has made it clear that the case has international ramifications – the third-world footage ripped from the memories of a recent immigrant–"
"Our jurisdiction's New York, Shah – we're not Interpol. If it's really an international case we bring them in and hand it over. Do I bring them in?"
"No, sir."
Van Doorn relaxed. "Good. Stick to relevant footage. We've only got him on a chicken-feed charge, but getting one of the Kotians on a chicken-feed charge is a start."
The last part of the day passed in awkward silence, Shah and Bailey's polite conversations kept strictly to work, with no more warmth than a corpse's kiss. But at the end of it, when Bailey packed to go Shah said, "Want to visit Daddy Kotian?"
"As part of your off the clock investigation?"
"Yep. You learn more things about the job that aren't in a manual, you get free tea or coffee if he's feeling hospitable and you get to keep your eye on me."
"You implying I don't trust you?"
Irritation seemed to have given Bailey a spine, Shah decided with a smile that he kept under wraps. Perhaps he'd have to keep her irritated. "Not implying, saying."
"Why should I? You expect me to trust you, but you won't tell me what the plan is?"
"I can't tell you what it is, because I'm n
ot really sure myself." Remembering van Doorn's orders and his own decision to work with her, not against her, Shah took a deep breath. "I'm working on instinct. Whether that instinct is from memories that are wiped from a conscious level, or whether I'm just freestyling… I dunno."
Bailey thought for a long time. "Maybe next time. When I can help, not hinder."
"I should have you thrown from the building," Kotian said, although his deadpan expression gave no clue whether he really meant it. It was an old-fashioned office, echoing the days when lights were left on in empty buildings round the clock, with furniture made from enough wood to cover a county.
It was full of people staring at screens while they muttered at the audio pick-ups on their eyepieces. Shah heard foreign languages interspersed with occasional English like 'stock-market' and 'bonds.'
"You could. It's your right." Shah held up his hands in a surrender gesture. "I want to establish if your son was careless, or deliberately hired that kid. Cause he's 'fessed up to being paid. Once he learned his sister was on a slab in the morgue he held nothing back."
"The mechanic's sister is dead?" Kotian looked aghast.
If his innocence is an act, it's a good one. "She is. It makes the boy's future doubly doubtful. He's working on a student visa, and she wasn't supposed to be here at all."
"That's awful," Kotian sat down heavily into a chair. It almost swallowed even his bulk. "The boy was clearly trying to provide for his family, however misguidedly."
"Sure. Look, we've all cut corners. Last time I drove I jumped a red light. I've turned blind eyes to stuff. We all do, don't we?"
"Do we?" The corner of Kotian's mouth twitched and his eyes crinkled. "I've known people who do cut corners, but I don't, Officer."
"Pete," Shah said. "Look, I'll level with you, Mr Kotian. We're not so bothered if you pay your taxes on time, or hire guys that you shouldn't, except where they affect more serious cases. Someone wanted to convince us that this girl was Aurora Debonis. Maybe they killed her because she looked a little like Aurora."
"Call me Abhijit, since we've cast formality into the corner with our raincoats." Kotian made a come-here gesture. Shah removed his coat and Kotian held it up for one of his staff to take. "What do you need from me, Pete?"
"You know a lot of people. Some – like Tosada – are perfectly legit. But some may not be. Let us go through your employee records at the garage without having to get warrants binding us to specific areas or times, and we'll look away if we glimpse anything that isn't to do with a major investigation, like the murder or the memory rips."
Kotian called for drinks, and Shah agreed to a mineral water. Shah looked at a set of pictures, one of a stunning redhead in her late twenties, holding onto Kotian's arm as she laughed into the camera. In another she looked wan but euphoric as she held a pair of babies while Kotian's hand rested on her shoulder. "Your wife?" Shah said.
"Amy, yes, and our boys," Kotian said, devotion audible in his voice.
Trophy wife, Shah thought. "How does Sunny feel about you extending the family?"
Kotian's hesitation was eloquent, but he said smoothly, "Sunny will always be the first born, Pete. My heir."
You're torn in two. "It can't be easy for either of you." As Kotian wiggled his head in an it-doesn't-matter gesture, Shah added. "Are they in Boston with – Madeleine, is it?"
"It is Madeleine," Kotian said, "but Amy and the boys live here by Central Park South."
It was a testament to Kotian's wealth and influence that he'd been able to keep family data hidden from snoops, although the Feds probably knew. More to the point, why tell me? Is he playing games, or is he really so lonely that he wants to impress a mere flatfoot?
They chatted for another hour about things that might yield Kotian money – classic American cars, ecological politics and the dream of the commercial exploitation of Mars, even the asteroid belt. They didn't interest Shah, but he was happy to let Kotian talk – it might lead somewhere. More interesting were ice hockey and Asian history. "When I retire," Kotian said, "and I don't intend to work until I'm eight-five as you do – I think that that's disgusting, Pete, I really do – I'm going to sail my boat to India."
Shah remembered a download from Leslyn, of going out on a little sailboat once, when they were newly-weds… off Coney Island, or somewhere like that. Shah freaking as the little boat threatened to capsize, Leslyn laughing at first until she realized that he wasn't hamming it up, then concerned.
"Calorie for them," Kotian said.
Shah thought Kotian's eyes gleamed with amusement. If he's seen my memory, he'd know about that. Is this some sort of test? What do I say to pass it? He shuddered.
"What?" Kotian said.
"I hate the ocean," Shah said. "It's called hydrophobia."
"As in rabies?"
Shah laughed. "That is a symptom."
"How can you be phobic about the ocean?"
"Any body of water much larger than a bath makes me feel ill. I can stand up in the swimming pool, but ask me to take my feet off the bottom – oof!"
Kotian nodded. "Well, when I get to India, I'm going to research my family's history." He paused. "Send your men around in the morning, Pete. They can check the records." Shah nodded. "Thanks." He quashed an urge to punch the air.
XXXIII
Saturday
"You not got a home?" Hampson's soup-strainer mustache twitched.
Lifting the flap, Shah slid through from the waiting room into the almost empty office. "Thought I'd see if you work as hard as you claim."
"Funny guy. Your girlfriend's in." The desk officer jerked his thumb at Bailey, pouring herself a glass of water from the dispenser.
Shah went to get a coffee. "You can't tear yourself away from the place either?"
"My partner says I shouldn't work unpaid, but if I don't those cases will be backed up by Monday."
"I heard the Department factors that in."
"How'd your visit to Kotian go?"
"Kotian talked a lot, and I listened," Shah said. "I didn't expect much from the first meet, to be honest." Bailey played with her lower lip. "Speak your mind," Shah said.
"It's just – well, I'm worried about you getting too close to Kotian."
"I reckon Sunny will feel the same when he finds out." Shah grinned. "It may be the only time you and him ever agree on anything." For once Bailey really smiled. She looks much better for it. "Thing is, Sara, Kotian loves the challenge. He loves bragging about the things he's heard that criminals do – not him, of course, no, no, no – not me, Officer."
"You sound like you like him."
"Not exactly like. But he's almost an ordinary guy." Shah chuckled at Bailey's shocked look. "I said almost. He certainly likes to play games. He taunted me at least a half-dozen times, hints and little sly comments to see if I'd react."
"And did you?"
"I pretended I was hard of hearing." Taking their seats they began work. "He's agreed we can look through his employee lists to see if there are any names that leap out at us." He added, "I'm guessing it's only a partial list."
"Wow." Bailey looked at Shah with a sudden new respect. "Even a partial list's some sort of result." She grunted. "Your visit was probably worth it just for that. Good work!"
For the next two hours they scythed through the list of smaller, easy-to-finish jobs and those that could be delegated. For once their silence was companionable. Bailey asked fewer questions, Shah made sure he didn't snap his answers.
As the morning progressed the office gradually filled up, with uniformed and plain clothes officers on duty, plus a few like Shah and Bailey pulling an extra – unpaid –– shift.
About mid-morning, having cleared the easy and minor items, Shah returned to thinking about Kotian. "You know, as well as two wives Kotian has several companions who he mixes with regularly."
"Yeah?" Bailey looked up. "What're you thinking?"
"Anyone ever pulled together a list of their close friends, relatives, a
nd so on?"
"Dunno. I'll look." As the results poured down her eyepiece, she mouthed names, lips working silently. She shook her head, abstracted. "I ran a match on all the named victims with the list of family members – nothing there. Let me see where we have victim's next of kin or family members, see if anything intersects." She exhaled, still intent on the search. "No."