"What the fuck!"
He spun, grabbing the wrist tight, thrusting it from him.
"Lights! Billie, what the hell are you doing!"
He held her wrist tightly at arm's length. She sat there staring at him, wincing with the pressure and looking at him with wide eyes, her lower lip trembling. Her slim body pale, naked, her budding breasts tipped with pale pink.
"B-but I thought ... " Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.
"I don't care what the hell you thought. You don't do that." He thrust her wrist away. She rubbed the wrist with her other hand, staring at him with wide eyes. Jack bunched the covers and threw them at her.
"Cover yourself."
His erection had faded. He pulled the remaining cover around himself and stared at the girl. There was fear in her face and something else — lack of comprehension. Moisture welled in her eyes.
Shit. What was he going to do with her? His mind tumbled with the implications. Pinpin Dan? Maybe others. Who had taught her that? There had been nothing clumsy about her touch, as if she'd known exactly what she was doing.
"Listen, Billie, you don't do that." He tried to keep the feeling out of his voice. He had hurt her. She was still massaging the wrist. "Are you okay?"
She barely nodded, her look now one of accusation.
Jack felt suddenly powerless. "Billie, I didn't mean to hurt you. But you don't do things … like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm nearly four times as old as you. Because you're a young girl, Because ... shit ... it's just not right that's all. Damn it! I could be your father."
"So what?" she said, regaining some of that ever-present self-assurance. "You were the one who said it. You said we'd work out the sleeping arrangements."
So what? I could be your father. So what?
"I meant sleep. That's all I meant. I don't know what it means to you. Who told you it meant anything else?"
He stood, dragging the sheet behind him, wrapping it around himself. She watched him from the bed, her jaw set. It seemed to make no difference to her that he had said he could have been her father, and the implications of that were worse than the thought of Pinpin Dan. Something bottomless opened in the depths of his stomach.
"Was it Pinpin who taught you to do those things?"
"Nuh-uh," she said.
"Then who?"
"Don't remember," she said.
He looked away. How do you really measure damage? When had it started? Maybe it had been in her time in Old, with the others. It didn't really matter — not now.
"Billie, I want you to listen to me. Please. You never do that again. Not with me, not with anyone else. You just don't."
Never was a long time, but he couldn't express it any other way. He couldn't tell her there was a time and a place and it was some years away yet. He couldn't express any of the conflicting thoughts running through his head in a way that made sense right now. He stared at her, temporarily lost for the words that would express what he was feeling. "I'm going to sleep out on the couch. You stay in here." She was still rubbing her wrist. He'd grabbed her hard. "Is your arm okay?"
She nodded and drew the covers more tightly around herself.
He left her there and moved out into the living area, shutting the door behind him. What had happened had been a shock, but there was another shock as he realized what he was feeling. Jack suddenly knew what it was. He was feeling responsibility. She was all of eleven years old. Shit. What could he do? He didn’t know. How did you deal with something like that?
It was a long time before he reached the edges of sleep again. Her light was still on, a yellow crack beneath the bedroom door, his bedroom door, by the time he finally did.
SEVEN
An insistent chiming woke him from his fragile sleep. The sound was unusual. There was something about the tone, deeper, slower than normal. He growled and levered himself upright. Then he realized he was on the couch. What was he doing on the ... oh damn! He remembered. Fragmented images of last night. He vainly tried to work the taste of them from his consciousness and the grit from his eyes.
"Lights," he muttered.
The wall blossomed into the police corporate logo. Police? What the hell did they want? He glanced at the bedroom door, making sure it was closed.
"Yeah, answer," he said, making clear that he didn't appreciate being disturbed.
A sallow face, dark, cropped hair and bright blue, slightly epicanthic eyes replaced the logo.
"Jack Stein?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"I'm Special Investigator Louis Ng. I need to ask you a few questions."
Jack shrugged and pulled the cover tighter about himself. It had been a long unsettled time before he'd been able to catch a few fragments of sleep last night. The memories of what had happened flooded his semi-awake mind and he curled his mouth in distaste. Half awake was bad enough, but half awake with things on his mind and police questions was almost too much.
"Well make it quick."
"Are you familiar with one Heironymous Dan, also known as Pinpin?"
Heironymous? Heironymous? Shit, no wonder he'd called himself by another name.
"Yes, maybe, and ...?"
"Heironymous Dan may be able to help us with certain inquiries."
Not bloody likely, thought Jack.
"Unfortunately it appears that Mister Dan's exact location is currently unknown. It has become a question that we'd like some answers about. It seems he may have disappeared from the Locality. We would very much like to establish his whereabouts."
"I'm sorry to hear that, and I wish you lots of luck, but what's that got to do with me?"
The police were awkward. The Locality had little need of law-enforcement services, and when they did, the police hung on to things. They had little enough to do most of the time, their actions directed by the higher-ups who managed them rather than any set of statutes. Every time they were pointed at something, it became like a personal mission. They were run by a privatized corporation, and that corporation answered only to their paymasters. Sometimes that meant things got ugly. True, there were emergency services, but that was hardly their first purpose in life. Jack, working on the fringes of what they did was an obvious target. It was difficult to work out how much he should show them he knew. Probably, the less the better.
Special Investigator Ng seemed to be waiting for something. His image frowned and continued.
"What would you know about that, Mister Stein?"
“Sorry, about what?”
Ng gave a slightly exasperated look. “About the disappearance of Heironymous Dan.”
"What should I know?"
Ng's frown deepened and he glanced off to one side before looking back. "The records show you in attendance at Mister Dan's apartment yesterday. Does that prompt your memory?"
In his half-asleep state, Jack had forgotten there’d be records, that they’d know he was there. "Yeah, I visited Pinpin. What of it?"
Ng paused. It didn't seem like the answer he'd expected. "We're concerned, Mister Stein, because apparently there were no other visitors during the day. Perhaps you can tell us what you do know."
That threw him. Billie had been very clear about Pinpin's other visitors. Somehow, they must have tampered with the records — not an easy thing to do. The police weren't making any accusations yet, but it wouldn't be long.
"Listen," said Jack. "This is my statement, for the record, if you want a statement, and you can record it that way if you like. I visited Pinpin Dan. Went over to see his new apartment, that's all. I met him by chance on the shuttle and he invited me. I can show you his card if you want. It's around here somewhere." He hadn’t gotten around to throwing it out. Maybe that was just as well. He made a show of shuffling around on the coffee table and looking. Ng glanced back down to one side and then at the screen again. They were definitely recording.
"New apartment?"
"Well, yeah. New as far as I was concerned. I hadn'
t seen him for a few months."
"So, it was a social visit."
"Yes. I've already told you that."
"You don't seem very surprised that we're interested in finding him, that he seems to have disappeared."
"Shit happens. Pinpin wasn't one to make a lot of friends. Quite the opposite." That much was true.
There was a flash if interest in Ng's expression. "So, you're saying that Mister Dan had enemies, people who might want to harm him."
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"And what can you tell us about that, Mister Stein?"
"Nothing. It's just the sort of guy he was."
Ng was now looking down at something in front of him, out of shot. "You're an investigator aren't you, Mister Stein? A psychic investigator." So, they had his records out as well.
"Yeah, and...?"
"And before that, you spent some time in Intelligence."
"Where are you going with this, Ng?"
Ng looked up. "Just making sure of the facts, Mister Stein."
Jack let a trace of annoyance slip into his tone. "Well you've got them right, okay? I'm sure you can get what you need from whatever you've got there. It's early. If there's nothing else..."
Ng pursed his lips in disapproval. "I would have thought you might be a little more co-operative, Mister Stein ... under the circumstances."
"What circumstances? You wake me up, throw a bunch of questions at me while I'm half-asleep. What circumstances?"
"I apologize for disturbing you, Mister Stein, but I would have thought, considering the disappearance of your friend ..."
"Hey, Ng, listen, he was an acquaintance. Get that right. An acquaintance. Nothing more. Now, unless there's anything else ..."
"No, there's nothing else ... for now. We'll be in touch." Ng paused before signing off. "Um, there is one thing, Mister Stein."
"Yes?"
"You’re working on some sort of —” He paused and cleared his throat. ”assignment currently…?"
So, the police had some sort of interest in the Outreach case too. They wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.
This guy, Ng, clearly had a pretty low opinion of what Jack did. When Jack didn’t answer, Ng continued. "Would you like to tell me what you're working on right at the moment? Perhaps there is something about that or your client that could assist us."
Jack snorted. "If you think I'm going to tell you that ... "
Ng pursed his lips. Finally, he sighed and spoke. "All right, Mister Stein. As you don't seem to have anything useful to tell me for the moment, that will be all for now. As I said, we'll be in touch."
The image faded to blank wall.
Jack stared at the place where Ng's face had been, still seeing the curled lip and the hostile, knowing expression. Police. He didn't need police sniffing around him at the moment. If what Ng had said was true, then they were likely to start poking around his affairs with a little bit more energy than just a casual call. Ng's tone had been polite. Too polite. No accusations. No suspicion of direct involvement, at least not obviously. He didn't like the implications. It meant they considered him suspect. Of that, there was no doubt.
So, what had happened to the records in Pinpin's place? More to the point, what had happened to Pinpin's body? Ng hadn't even mentioned the girl. Okay, that was strange. It was also a little strange that they had become involved so quickly. Who had tipped them off? Ng said that Pinpin had disappeared. No mention of why they wanted to talk to him. No mention of murder. No mention of a corpse. That was odd too. How much did they really know?
He scratched at the back of his head and stood, shrugging the sheets around himself. More questions than answers, and he hated that, but most of it would have to wait until later.
Now, what to do about the kid? He thought maybe it was best to just act normally. He could give her something to do, keep her occupied while he was busy himself. He thought for a while and recorded a set of names into the wall unit. When he was done, he crossed to the bedroom door.
"Billie, you awake?" he called outside the door, hesitating to open it.
The door opened and Billie stood there, looking at him warily, already fully dressed.
He looked at her wondering what to do, thinking. Maybe it was better to act as if last night hadn't happened at all.
"Listen," he said. "I've just had a call. Police. They wanted to know what I was doing at Pinpin's."
A quick look of panic flickered across her face and she clutched the doorframe with one hand. The look disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "What do they want?" she said squaring her shoulders, a clear belligerent tone in her voice. She had the reactions rehearsed in a way that said she'd been existing on the wild side for some time — fight or flight. It was a pattern he was starting to see a lot.
"Did they say anything about me?" she said.
Okay, she'd clearly had experience of the police before. Or maybe it was just stuff that had rubbed off from Pinpin.
"No, nothing. And that's a bit strange don't you think?"
"’Spose." She chewed it over for a second or two. "What about the two that came — the man and the woman?"
"No, nothing about them either. Anyway, it means I'm going to have to move a bit more quickly on this. I have to go and see someone and sort something out. You going to be all right here on your own again?"
She nodded.
"Good," he said. "You can do that research for me while I'm gone. Look up those things for me. I'm going to need my handipad with me, but we can download whatever you come up with when I get back. I’ve left you a list of topics in the system. Then I think I might need to go on a little trip."
"Where?"
"The Residence," said Jack, and Billie narrowed her eyes.
oOo
Out on the street, Billie's last admonition still rang in his ears. "And bring back something to eat."
What the hell did he know about looking after a kid?
A flicker above him drew his gaze. Fireworks. Fly-pasts. What were Scenics playing at? Head tilted back, chewing at his bottom lip, he watched the display. Of course! Foundation Day. They always played celebratory images on Foundation Day. He'd completely forgotten what day it was. It showed him how much out of touch he was with the real world, how much he was bound up in this crap that kept happening inside his head. He wasn’t only locking himself away in his apartment, he was hiding away in his own head. He really should have remembered something like that.
The only true public holiday in the Locality, Foundation Day marked the birth of the structure, the first opening of the enclosed urban environment and the influx of the first few families and office workers who were to make the Locality their permanent home. In those days, the Locality had been small, more like a small suburb than a city, an experiment, but as the experiment became a success and the lure of safety and an improved standard of living had filtered out into the world, the Locality had grown. Other, similar structures grew up across the continental vastness. The Locality was not only the first, it was also the biggest.
Foundation Day meant other things. The Outreach offices would be closed for business. Most places would be closed, apart from the cafés, bars and restaurants, and all of those would be heaving with bodies. And he'd given Gleeson no set time when they were going to meet. Maybe just as well he wasn't going to find him at Outreach. But Gleeson should have known it was Foundation Day, right? He couldn't call him — not now. It might raise too many suspicions if he put in a call to the Outreach offices on Foundation Day and asked for the guy. What was Jack Stein doing calling the offices on a public holiday, and why Gleeson? He'd just have to find him elsewhere, hopefully at his apartment. He had to assume the little man wasn’t going to be out celebrating with the masses. He just didn’t seem the type, and with everything else that was going on… The apartment was likely where Gleeson had assumed they would meet anyway.
Foundation Day. It had turned out that there was benefit after all, especially consider
ing the sudden involvement of the police. He needed to keep his movements as low profile as possible and he didn't want the problem of inept idiots trailing him to Outreach or anywhere else. Yeah, lose himself in the masses. The Foundation Day crowds should see to that. If he was going to be followed, it wouldn’t be easy for them. There was nothing outside the buildings to record his movements as far as he knew.
Jack walked to the shuttle stop turning the conversation with Ng over in his mind. So, there was a record of him at Pinpin's apartment, but no trace of the others. That spoke of pretty sophisticated doctoring mechanisms if they could get at the building records and obliterate any trace of their visit. It was funny that Ng hadn't mentioned Billie either. There was definitely something weird going on there. Maybe they didn’t have any records after all. Maybe Ng had just been spinning him a story. Fragments of the dream with the White-Haired Man floated up in his inner vision. What had he said? I want your girlfriend. The words echoed inside his head. The White-Haired Man couldn't have been referring to Billie. That just didn't make sense. Though considering last night's events ...
No. Not possible. It couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t allow it to be possible.
Jack grimaced at the thought, at the understanding of what the whole episode meant as far as Billie was concerned. He remembered his own first fumblings, his first awkward experiments at the age of fourteen or fifteen. Billie was way ahead of him there. She was practiced. The thought did more than scare him.
As the shuttle slid to a halt in front of him and he climbed aboard, he was still thinking. He glanced around, looking for an empty seat. The shuttle was full, even this far down the Locality. Just what you'd expect on Foundation Day. Everyone was heading up to New for the celebrations. Kids, families, all heading for the wide-open spaces of parkland. It didn't matter where they came from, what they looked like. Everyone was the same on Foundation Day, even Jack Stein. He sank back against a door panel and suppressed a sigh. He’d gotten barely enough sleep, he’d missed his coffee, and there wasn’t even a seat.
Wyrmhole: Jack Stein #1 New Edition Page 8