Code of Conduct

by Kristine Smith

  “Angevin,” Jani said, “don’t open your mouth again until you’ve spoken to a Registry mediator.”

  “But I—”

  “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Angevin rose. “This is bullshit! Steve’s in trouble and you’re all fighting about rules!” She dashed past Doyle and ran from the office.

  “Where the hell is she going!” Ridgeway shouted, as he, Doyle, and Jani hurried into the hall.

  Doyle paced halfway down the passage. “She knows where her boyfriend is, I’ll bet.” She spun on her heel toward Ridgeway. “You said his scanpack needed maintenance, that he’d need to be desperate to bolt without it.” She motioned to two guards standing nearby. “Which repair carrel is his?”

  The lock-down was tighter than Jani suspected. Or hoped. As they tried to enter the third-floor parts bins, the system balked at accepting even Doyle’s palm and key card.

  The stink of nutrient broth sent Ridgeway to the front desk for nose plugs. Jani trailed Doyle, Ridgeway, and the green-faced guards past the line of carrels. Only one door stood open. Angevin leaned against the jamb, a hand cupped over her mouth. “He didn’t do it,” she muttered as Doyle brushed past her into the tiny room. “He didn’t do it.”

  Doyle muttered a heartfelt, “Oh shit,” and turned back to Ridgeway. “Notify ComPol. Tell them we need an ambulance. And the medical examiner.” As Ridgeway left to find a comport, Doyle whispered some orders to the guards, then gently maneuvered a shaken Angevin into the hall.

  “He didn’t do it,” Angevin repeated like a desperate prayer. “He didn’t do it.”

  Jani remained in the doorway. She could see Betha. On the floor. Far corner. No need to approach. No need to confirm. She had seen more than her share of corpses over the years.

  Strange the way a body seemed to crumple in on itself after death.

  Jani heard the clack of a charge-through being engaged. She turned to see Borgie draw alongside her, his T-40 humming its standby song. He wiped a grimy hand over his mouth. His brown eyes had that hollowed-out look, matched by his pale, sunken cheeks. “She dead, Captain?” he asked, his voice shaky.

  “Yeah.” Jani nodded, waiting for the next question. She knew what it was, but she waited anyway. Do you think she felt—

  “Do you think she felt anything, ma’am?”

  Jani looked at Betha. Outflung arms. Twisted neck. Her hair dragged around to the far side of her face, making her look close-cropped. Just like Yolan. “No, I don’t think so, Sergeant. Looked quick to me.” As if she could tell. As if she could find her way out of a goddamn closet.

  “We aren’t going to leave her like that, are we, ma’am?”

  “No, Sergeant, we’re not. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Ms. Tyi, who are you talking to?”

  Jani turned to see Doyle, surrounded by wary subordinates, regarding her with a puzzled frown. “No one,” she replied, “just thinking out loud.” When she turned back, Borgie had gone. But he’d left her a gift—the burnt-leather stench of his T-40 scorched gloves. The acrid stink filled Jani’s nose. Her eyes watered. “No one at all.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Ridgeway joined Jani inside the parts-bin vending alcove; they took turns draining the water cooler. Jani downed dispo after dispo in an effort to assuage her relentless thirst, but Ridgeway just needed something to wash down the multicolored tablets he tossed into his mouth like candy.

  “I recall your saying something about an emergency requiring a body.” He popped a tiny yellow ovaloid Jani recognized as a black-market tranquilizer. “Check that point off your list, Risa—requirement met.”

  “Forell didn’t do it.”

  “You’ve known him less than three days. I’ve dealt with him for over a year.” Ridgeway made a vain attempt to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Allow the fact I know my people, however little you think of my ability to handle them.”

  Stick it. Jani looked down the hall. One of the Commonwealth Police officers had set up a dyetape barrier in front of the carrel door. Two others had entered the small room carrying scanscreens and evidence cases. A skimgurney hovered against the wall, its body bag zipped open, waiting to be filled. “Steve’s feelings for Betha seemed almost paternal,” she said. “I can’t accept that he’d turn on her.”

  Ridgeway gave a tired shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time a mentor turned on his charge, Risa.”

  “True, but for a relationship like that to turn bad, it needs an edge. The edge just wasn’t there. Substitute Angevin for Betha and you for Steve—there’s a murder I could accept.”

  Ridgeway scowled. “Dear, dear Angevin.” The black-and-grey shades of his daysuit, combined with his pallor and mood, made him look like an animated pencil sketch. “She chose her bed. Let her lie in it.” He reinserted his nose plugs and stepped out of the alcove to take a look at the scene down the hall. “Tell me, my esteemed enemy, would you really have shot me?” The plugs made him sound nasal.

  “No. Not with that weapon, not in an enclosed space.” Jani considered stopping there, but with an esteemed enemy, one never held back certain truths. “I would have clouted you alongside the head with the butt end, though. But only if you became violent.”

  “Thank you, Risa,” Ridgeway replied. “That makes me feel so much better.” They walked down the aisle toward the dyetape barrier. “Are you going to tell me what you were working on with those two? Besides the fact it involved Lyssa.”

  “Ruining a reputation.”

  “Oh.” Ridgeway stepped close to the barrier, taking care to avoid the trespass sensors and the splattering of marker dye that would follow. “Anyone I know? Or should I say, knew?” He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. All he needed was a blindfold and a nicstick to complete the effect. “You’re going after Acton. The connection with Neumann. What he did to Martin.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Oh, hell!” One of the ComPol officers stationed outside the carrel entrance turned to stare at them, and Ridgeway lowered his voice. “Forget the scandal. Forget the political hay Ulanova would make of it. How can you think of piling something like that on your Minister, atop all he’s been through already?” Anger returned the familiar flush to his face. “Your definition of loyalty appears as novel as your one for emergency. He’d have to resign. In disgrace.”

  “Have you looked at him lately! He’s killing himself, Durian. It may be in a socially acceptable manner, but it’s suicide all the same.” Jani watched the flickers of multicolored light reflect off the surface of the open carrel door. That meant the forensic techs had set up their screens and were scangraphing the body and the area around it. “Forced retirement could save his life.”

  “Or end it.” The fluttering light had drawn Ridgeway’s attention as well. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I saw him this morning. He told me he asked you to quit your investigation.”

  “Yes.”

  “So what are you doing here?”

  “I was brought in to do a job.”

  “And now you’ve been asked to quit.”

  “Tell me why I should.”

  Before Ridgeway could respond, Colonel Doyle emerged from the carrel. Dyetape deactivator wand in hand, she poked and pushed toward them, her expression grim.

  “Damn, damn, damn.” She massaged the back of her neck, but rejected Ridgeway’s offer to share his tablet collection.

  “So?” he asked.

  “Manual strangulation. ME thinks she died around midnight.” Doyle glanced at the cup in Jani’s hand. “I could use some water, Ms. Tyi. Could you show me where it is, please?”

  As soon as they reached the alcove, Doyle sagged against the wall, sliding down until she crouched on the floor. “Her neck. You could hear it crunch when the ME touched her chin. Then her head just flopped over. There were hemorrhages under her eyelids. Lots of them. Whoever killed her tightened down, then eased up and let her come to.”

  Jani filled a dispo with cold water. Doyl
e stared past her when she held out the cup, and she set it on the floor in front of her. “Torture strangulation. Whoever killed her was desperate for something she knew. Or had.”

  “You don’t seem very surprised by this.”

  “No, not completely.”

  “Do you think Forell did it?”

  “No.”

  “Then who?”

  Jani moved to the other side of the alcove and sat on the floor. “Both she and Steve were working to keep themselves out of jail under my direction. Of the two, Betha seemed the more scared. I think she’d confided in someone else without Steve’s knowledge. That person killed her.”

  Doyle covered her face with her hands. She stared at Jani through a cage of fingers. “Could you please back up to the ‘keep themselves out of jail’ part, and explain what you mean by ‘direction’?”

  Jani wavered. Because the murder occurred on Cabinet property, the ComPol had to work with House Security. If Steve turned up during the search, Doyle would handle his transfer into their eager hands. “Deal?”

  “What kind?”

  “Stall the ComPol. Don’t tell them about Steve. If he turns up, hang on to him.”

  “How! It’s a murder, Ms. Tyi. ComPol is setting up a command center in my office as we speak!”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “According to Durian, Forell had means, motive, and opportunity.”

  “You’d listen to that jackass?”

  “Murder makes me open-minded. Besides, if Forell is innocent, he could be in danger as well. Jail may be the safest place for him.”

  Jani tried to shake her head, but the rocking motion made her sick to her stomach. “I need him here,” she said. “He has special knowledge of past events I’m investigating for His Excellency. Besides, imprisonment for any reason means a mandatory hearing. Unless Steve’s able to build a good defense, he faces immediate deletion from the Registry.”

  “You goddamn dexxies are all alike, you know that! Self-centered morons! Betha Concannon is dead. She died horribly. Steven Forell can bundle his botched career with his scanpack and shove them both up his ass!”

  “I’m perfectly aware of how Betha died, Colonel. Do you want the real murderer to go unpunished? What happened to your open mind?”

  Doyle’s jaw worked. She picked up the dispo of water and took a cautious sip. “What do you want?”

  “Keep the ComPol away from Steve Forell. Give me two days.” Jani waited for Doyle’s grudging nod before continuing. “Betha buggered paper for Lyssa.”

  “Durian mentioned that already. That angered Steve because one bad colony kid ruins it for the others.”

  “No. Steve was trying to help Betha get out from under. He knew what she’d done. We were digging into why Lyssa wanted the work done in the first place.” Jani straightened slowly and moved to Doyle’s side of the alcove so she could talk more softly. “Eighteen years ago, during the last idomeni civil war, several ranking Family members made a deal with the Laumrau. Protection and support in exchange for research involving personality augmentation. Acton van Reuter used what he learned to have his grandson, Martin, augied at the age of three.”

  Doyle’s jaw dropped. “That’s what was wrong with that kid? Oh God! You don’t augment someone that young—you create a monster.” Her expression grew pained. “Five years ago. I had just begun working here. There were several episodes we needed to hush up. One with his sister—” Her look sharpened. “Did His Excellency and the Lady know?”

  “I think Lyssa figured it out. I believe she had herself augmented, perhaps so she could better understand what Martin went through.” She thought back to Evan’s after-dinner confession. “Or perhaps, because of her particular brain chemistry, she knew it would cause her to hallucinate under stress. I think she saw what she wanted to see during those episodes.”

  Doyle winced. “Her kids?” She sighed when Jani nodded. “But there have been rumors about Acton van Reuter’s dealings for years. He prospered in spite of them.”

  “Rumors are one thing. Betha had paper proof.” Jani hesitated. “I’m pretty sure she had paper proof. Private documents from the van Reuter library. The stuff Cao’s been trying to get her hands on for months.”

  Doyle nodded. “I oversaw one transfer. A tense time was had by all.”

  “Well, the private paper is untouchable until Justice makes a ruling, but if Nawar decides they’re actionable—”

  “That’s the end of the V in NUVA-SCAN.” Doyle crumpled the cup and tossed it into the trashzap, where it ignited with a soft pop. “And Stevie knows what these papers consist of?” She smiled coldly at Jani’s affirmative. “Then let’s go find Stevie.” She stood, then rubbed her knees gingerly. “I remember my old CO telling me what a posh job House Security was. If I ever run into her again, she’s in for one heavy-duty bout of reeducation.”

  Jani tried to stand, but her sore back balked. She held out a hand to Doyle, who pulled her easily to her feet.

  “If what you say about Steve is true, Ms. Tyi, you’ve just done me out of my prime suspect. Maybe I should add your name to the list, just on general principles.”

  “Yours as well, Colonel. Anyone with a vested interest in the status quo.”

  “Good,” Doyle said as she stepped into the hall. “That narrows down the list to mere thousands.”

  Two assistants from the ME’s office had just maneuvered the skimgurney bearing Betha’s body into the hall. The colonel’s eyes locked on the dull green body bag as it floated down the aisle and toward the elevators. Ridgeway stood off to the side, conversing intently with a ComPol detective lieutenant holding a recorder. Angevin, however, was nowhere to be seen. Jani nudged Doyle. “Where’s Angevin?”

  “Infirmary. Shock combined with the stench in this place. First she was royally sick, then she fainted.” The gurney disappeared around a corner, and Doyle turned back to Jani. “Were Steve and Betha having an affair? I did hear rumors. Ms. Wyle’s temper is a minor legend around here.”

  “You’ve seen Angevin’s hands. You saw Betha’s neck. Did they match?”

  “No.” Doyle frowned. “The ME said it had to have been a man, or a very physically fit woman.” Her grimace altered to a cool smile. “Like you, Risa.”

  Jani smiled in return. “Or you, Virginia.”

  They regarded one another until Doyle broke the impasse. “I hate to sound petty, but this could not have come at a worse time. My Exterior counterpart, Colonel Tanz, and his executive staff are coming over this evening. Informal monthly meeting. My turn to pour tea and pass cookies.”

  Jani’s mind raced. Exterior. The Court of Inquiry report. Would Lucien be a member of the executive staff? Could she pass off the report to him under Doyle’s beady eye?

  “I’ve tried to cancel it these past two days, but Tanz wouldn’t let me.” Doyle started down the hall. “‘Things we need to discuss,’ he said, the son of a bitch. Knowing how quickly good news travels in this town, I’m anticipating a lovely evening.” She offered Jani a tired wave before disappearing around the corner.

  Ridgeway, his interview over, brushed past Jani without a word. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find herself fixed by the dubious eye of a detective sergeant who just wanted to “ask a few questions, please, ma’am.”

  Jani managed to escape with her pretenses intact. Lying to police—piece of cake—do it all the time. The thought of cake made Jani realize how starved she was. She ducked back into the alcove and built a late breakfast from the offerings of the various machines.

  If one assumes Ridgeway lit a fire under ComPol’s collective ass concerning Steve, Ginny’s going to have a hell of a time holding them off. Jani chewed thoughtfully. Two days of stonewalling could prove impossible—one day could be pushing it. Steve, where the hell are you?

  She watched food wrappers flash to powder in the trashzap and wondered if she’d soon be doing the same. I saw Borgie clear as day. Heard his voice. It felt good to see him,
in spite of the circumstances and the intimation her health was deteriorating. Lyssa must have felt that way, as well. Any contact, however fleeting, would serve in the never-ending quest to ease the guilt-ridden ache.

  By the time Jani left the alcove, ComPol had finished searching carrels. One lucky detective captain was donning a cartridge-filter mask in preparation for searching the aquariums, where damaged scanpack innards went to be rehabbed.

  Well, the aquariums were technically the most visitor-friendly area of the bins. No static barriers to discharge. No nitrogen-blanketing to recharge. Just the open-top tanks with their little baby brains. The aquariums made the rest of the bin area smell like a flower garden. Someone who chose to hide there did so in the hope no one would look for them there. So, of course, ComPol would look there first.

  Good luck, Captain—I give that mask twenty minutes, tops. Jani tried her Interior ID in the stairwell card reader. Bet you burn your uniform, too. The access light blinked; the door swept aside. Either Doyle had lowered the status of the lock-down, or Risa Tyi’s status was loftier than Jani thought. She mounted the stairs, alert for movement of any kind. Stevie, where the hell are you? Doyle certainly seemed concerned about finding him, but she would have had him by now if she’d kept her eyes open outside the cafeteria.

  If I were Ulanova, I’d want someone like Doyle in charge of my enemy’s security. Jani paused to consider the concept, then took the steps two at a time until her cramping right hip told her to knock it off. The fourth-floor door opened for her as had the third. She flashed her ID at a trio of somber Security guards and studied wall maps until she found the corridor that led to the infirmary.

  CHAPTER 26

  Tsecha shifted against the rigid metal frame of his uncushioned chair and watched the Xhà Pathen representative state her skein’s case against the laes. Xhà did not possess the fluidity of Vynshàrau, or even of Laum. The female jerked rather than gestured; her voice sounded as though she spoke in a metal box. Tsecha looked away from her twitching form, focusing instead on a favored sculpture. But even smooth riverstone failed to please him. His back ached. His head throbbed. He had lost patience with the mind-focusing ability of pain.