‘Yeah. I got notified she was back at the tower. Kit took Sam and Marie over there to keep her company. Sort of. This is not how our Saturday night was supposed to go.’
‘No… No, but then Mister Winsford here gets himself slaughtered.’
Helen frowned as Fox walked over to her and began to dress again. ‘Thomas Winsford? Vote broker and conservative?’
‘That would be him. Facial-recognition match. We’ll confirm prints later.’
‘Thomas Winsford uses prostitutes who strap him to a wall and whip him? And no one noticed?’
‘Well, I’ll be confirming that with Naomi later, and it would also be why this was marked sensitive. Guy holds a huge voting block on the right wing. His opinion swayed a lot of others, but if… when it comes out that he was a fucking hypocrite, literally, it’s going to make a huge political mess. The right’s going to be trying to salvage something, and the left’s going to be screaming about dishonest right wingers.’
‘And Palladium’s in the middle trying to sort out what happened.’ Helen gave a sigh and patted Fox’s shoulder. ‘Well, rather you than me.’
‘Oh thanks.’ Fox pulled up a connection to Pythia. ‘Pythia, let’s get this going. I’m going to need a full scan of the room and a full sweep concentrating…’
~~~
There were relatively few people on the LI-line train Fox took out to the MarTech towers. It was late for the more staid New Yorkers and a little early for the more adventurous ones. The former group were at home in bed and the latter were still out in clubs, but there were other passengers and most of them seemed to think Fox was underdressed. She ignored them and went over Pythia’s data on the scene.
Since the loss of Prokhorov Station, and Jason Deveraux, her lover, Fox had got fairly good at ignoring humans. Jason had died in August and Fox had tracked down those responsible. They were all in the Cold Harbour ultra-secure prison on the Moon with very little chance of ever seeing the outside world again, and Fox had done her best to appear to be handling her loss. She had been needed for the private policing contract negotiations and she had done her job. It had been Kit, of course, who had realised what was really going on. Fox was working eighteen-hour days on contract documents, hiding away in their apartment viron so that she did not have to deal with humans. Humans treated her with kid gloves and offered sympathy. Or they did not realise what had happened and tried to chat her up. When it was business, things were generally formal enough that she could fix a smile on her face and work through. In social settings that was next to impossible, and Fox had developed an armoured shell of indifference which worked well until mid-December when Kit had told her to get her act together. And she had, more or less, but she still found a lot of humans rather irritating.
Thomas Winsford was another matter, however. Thomas Winsford had never moved in the circles Fox did, but he had irritated her plenty without knowing it. He had been a strong advocate of the metro policing resolution, and a strong proponent of Wayden Executive Services, Palladium’s only major competitor. He had not got things all the way he wanted: of the six policing regions the government had decided upon for placing contracts, Wayden had got only two. Winsford had been screaming about Palladium getting New York ever since, though he had really wanted Wayden to get the old precinct 18 area and had not cared what happened elsewhere. He was loud and annoying, and it seemed he was going to continue to be a pain in the ass from beyond the grave.
The preliminary cause of death was exsanguination: he had died because his blood had leaked out of his body. Slowly. The microbot swarm had found the largest wounds under the suspension cuffs he had been held up by, but the leather would have slowed the flow from there. The killer had added smaller puncture wounds in various strategic locations over a number of major blood vessels, but none large enough to cause a quick death.
There were also multiple other insults. Winsford had been whipped with, at an estimate, three different weapons. Fox was going to have to confirm some of the data because there was a strong indication that some of the damage had been far more controlled and done with a multi-stranded whip. She suspected that Naomi was responsible for those, but probably not the deeper wounds. Fox had intimate knowledge of what it was like to be whipped by someone who meant it and was surprised to find herself a little uncomfortable at seeing the same damage done to someone else. However, Reginald Grant had never got to one thing he had enjoyed doing to his victims when he had Fox at his mercy, but someone had done their best to simulate the same thing with Winsford: the killer, Fox assumed, had managed to ram a twelve-inch dildo into Winsford’s rectum. There was a small possibility that some internal damage caused by that had killed him before the blood loss could. The only way to be sure was going to be an autopsy.
‘This is personal,’ Fox said in the silence of her mind. ‘This isn’t politics or terrorism. Whoever did this was really pissed off at Winsford.’
‘I would agree,’ Kit replied. ‘I would add that there is a sexual component to the crime, but that is not necessarily the primary motivator.’
‘Well, the situation suggests something sexual, plus there’s the dildo. Then again, I’d expect that caused a great deal of pain.’
‘The measured diameter was eight centimetres. I would be surprised if Mister Winsford was used to, um, taking that much.’
Fox smirked. ‘Are you blushing?’
‘No,’ Kit replied tritely. ‘I don’t have blood to blush with.’
‘Huh. Anyway, I don’t see Winsford being into that kind of thing either, but then I didn’t think he was into hiring a dominatrix either. We’ll see what Naomi has to say about that. Are you building a murder room?’
‘My home copy is setting one up, and has been for a couple of hours. I would suggest visiting it in the morning. You could use a sleep cycle before you get really serious about this case.’
The train pulled smoothly into MarTech’s tower one, and Fox stepped off, heading for the southbound HT-line platform. ‘Yes, Mom. I can get this interview handled with Naomi, and then she can get back to the chapter house tonight rather than having to hang around here.’
‘You don’t believe Naomi is the killer? I don’t believe she would do such a thing.’
Fox pursed her lips and waited for the next train to arrive. ‘I think Naomi could kill someone, under the right circumstances. Most people can. I could probably come up with circumstances in which she’d kill Winsford, but not like this. Either it would be impulse and this murder wasn’t impulsive, or she’d make sure she was never caught.’
~~~
‘Okay, we’re recording this, Sister,’ Fox said, being formal for the record, ‘and you have been read your rights. Do you understand your rights?’
‘Yes,’ Naomi said, nodding. They were seated in one of the interview rooms in tower three which had only recently been installed after Palladium had won the policing contract for New York Metro. Naomi was actually one of the first people to be interviewed in one. One of, but hardly the very first: crime did not stop just because NAPA was no longer running things.
‘Good. Could you please explain your relationship with Thomas Winsford?’
Naomi sighed. ‘Technically, that is covered by our confidentiality agreement. Under the circumstances, I am prepared to discuss it, but I would require an assurance that the information is not communicated outside those who need to know.’
‘All I can guarantee is that Palladium won’t release that information to the media. If this goes to trial and the information is needed there…’
‘Of course. And obviously, what I’ve just said indicates our relationship. He was my client. He hired me to perform certain acts. Of a sexual nature.’
Fox leaned back in her chair. The furniture in the white room was a little more comfortable than the old NAPA interrogation rooms, but not much more. Between them there was a table a little bigger than Fox was used to, but it was still bolted to the floor and fitted with a couple of brackets to cha
in prisoners to. ‘You’re being more circumspect than I’d expect. You’re normally more… forthright about sex.’
Naomi’s lips twitched. ‘Ah… Thomas Winsford was more or less incapable of getting an erection without some form of dominance play being involved. I’m not sure what his wife, ex-wife I should say, did to get him going, but he got off on being bound and whipped. He liked a fantasy element, so we employed a number of virons to enhance the experience. Tonight it was a dungeon. A torture chamber.’
Fox nodded. ‘You saw the body. He was whipped to the point of drawing blood.’
‘I can account for some of the marks you undoubtedly found, but I’m careful never to draw blood. I use a flogger, multiple leather strips around twenty inches in length, or sometimes a paddle of one form or another. I’m good at employing my tools.’
‘No bullwhips? I noticed one on the floor and several in the racks.’
‘Not with Winsford. Some enjoy that, or the canes, but you have to be careful. Very careful. You can severely hurt someone with a bullwhip. Winsford would never have stood for anything that violent.’
‘Okay. Tell me what happened tonight. Was this a regular engagement?’
Naomi shook her head. ‘No. He calls and makes an appointment when he wants service. This was booked… two weeks ago, around Christmas. He has me book the room so that his own name is never on record and wears a full face mask to conceal his identity when he enters the club. I always collect him from the ground floor and take him up. Tonight, I’d selected the dungeon theme. I had him strip and I put him up on the St Andrew’s Cross.’
‘That’s the X-shaped one he was found on?’
‘Yes. Named, obviously, for the cross Saint Andrew the Apostle was crucified on. Anyway, I gagged him, a ball gag that snaps to the mask, and I started doing the usual routine. I’m sure I’d started. Flogging. Suggesting that he was less than virile… Uh, then I woke up on the floor. I was feeling a little groggy and couldn’t really remember where I was. I stood up and remembered I was supposed to be with Winsford. And… And I turned around. I… I think I just stood there for… I’m not sure. Seconds? Then I called nine-one-one and summoned Tree. Something like this is not supposed to be possible. The rooms are monitored by an AI.’
‘Mm,’ Fox said, but she decided not to go there yet. ‘You don’t remember anything between starting the session and waking up some… fifteen minutes after the session was due to end?’
‘Nothing. I certainly don’t remember this…’ Naomi had been given a white jumpsuit to replace her clothes, which were now in evidence. She showed absolutely no embarrassment as she unzipped the suit to her waist and pulled the garment aside, pressing her fingers to a reddened area of skin under her left breast. ‘Your technicians put me through some sort of scanner. I assume this was captured?’
Fox nodded. ‘Uh, you can put that away. I’ve seen the preliminary analysis. They took blood too, but we don’t have the results back on that.’ Naomi busied herself with her suit while Fox continued. ‘That’s a burn from an electrolaser. You’d likely have been stunned, but it can render someone unconscious. There’s a mark from a pressure injector on your neck. We currently think you were drugged, but we’ll wait for the full analysis. A flunitrazepam derivative might explain the memory loss. At this time, we are not viewing you as a suspect, Sister, but please don’t make any plans to leave the metro. Recording off.’
Fox got to her feet and headed for the door. ‘Come on. We’ll arrange some transport to get you back to the chapter house.’
‘Thank you, Fox, but…’ Naomi got to her feet and followed. Somehow, she just looked wrong in flat shoes. ‘What about the monitoring? There should be video. The AI should have–’
‘Whoever did this was either very good or they knew how the system worked. The AI was shut down and the cameras were turned off. That means someone at the club or an expert in computers and security systems.’
‘No one at Sheela Na Gig knew Winsford went there.’
‘I find that a little difficult to believe, but I’ll be talking to everyone. It’s more difficult because…’ Fox shook her head, frowning. ‘Bloody politics. If it gets out the guy was using a dominatrix, there’ll be Hell to pay. I can’t believe you took him as a client.’ Setting off down the corridor outside the interview rooms, Fox headed for the public waiting area outside the secured part of what was now, effectively, the central police HQ for New York Metro. ‘I mean… why?’
‘That’s… complicated. I’d rather not go into it, and not here. If you want to hear the full story, come over to the chapter house tomorrow, or when you can.’
‘Okay.’ A signal unlocked the doors ahead of them and Fox pushed through into the room beyond. There was immediate movement as Sam and Marie got to their feet. Helen got up slower and Kit was already standing. ‘Okay,’ Fox said, ‘I’ve finished grilling her like a fish for now.’
‘Oh, but Fox, I think I might have enjoyed that,’ Naomi replied.
‘You got to get your tits out, on record. That may be a first in an interview.’
‘Probably not,’ Helen said.
‘Okay, first in an interview here.’
‘I’m going with probably not, but you could be right.’
‘And it was just the one tit,’ Naomi pointed out.
‘I’m sorry I missed it,’ Marie said, but it was a little obvious she was forcing the humour.
‘I’ve ordered an autocab, Naomi,’ Kit said. ‘Actually, two. I thought it would be appropriate for all of us to return to our homes reasonably promptly.’
‘Yeah,’ Fox said. ‘I’m due a sleep cycle. I have to be up bright and early to solve a murder.’
‘You only need four hours’ sleep,’ Sam pointed out. ‘You’re always up bright and early.’
‘Not if I don’t get to bed early enough. Move.’
~~~
Having done the preliminary paperwork before climbing into her frame for the night, it was almost four a.m. before Fox shut down and almost eight a.m. before she emerged from a dreamless ‘sleep.’ She still called it a ‘sleep cycle,’ but she no longer really thought of it as sleep. Human sleep was a period of unconsciousness, too easily disturbed by environmental or mental conditions. Fox was offline for four hours, dead to the world, though the memory reconciliation process could be interrupted if it needed to be, but only deliberately. There were no dreams, no thoughts. Fox was rather happy about that.
‘Winsford’s in the paper,’ Fox commented as she sipped virtual coffee on the sofa in her virtual lounge and read the morning newspaper. It was not a real newspaper – real newspapers did not have videos and hyperlinks – but Kit and Belle created the document each morning to provide a comfortable way for Fox to take in the morning’s news, and Fox had found she liked it.
‘The media blackout is holding for the moment,’ Kit said. She had taken to drinking coffee with Fox. Sometimes Belle even popped in to join them, though not this morning. ‘As you can see, the IB channels are basically saying that he’s dead.’
‘They’ve tagged me as investigating officer and a couple of them have made the link to terrorism. I get tasked with heading up our antiterrorist division, when it’s needed, so this must be terrorism-related.’
‘A relatively simple deduction which they were likely to make.’
‘Yeah, but we need to put a cap on their expectations. Could you get the memetics department to put together a suitable press release? Something along the lines of me being assigned to regular cases as well as terrorist threats and the sensitivity of handling an important figure such as Thomas Winsford obviously requiring a senior detective.’
Kit nodded. ‘I’ll have my CIO copy arrange it.’
Fox flashed a grin. ‘Okay, two questions. How’s the training centre coming along?’
‘We are expecting all work to be completed by the end of this month. Our first clients are booked for a course starting Monday, sixth of February. That would be the Topeka Watch em
ergency team.’
‘Well, they don’t even need to book a hotel. And how has your first week as Palladium’s Chief Investigations Officer gone?’
Kit blinked. ‘Oh! Uh, I…’
‘That was not supposed to be a hard question.’
‘Well, I think things have gone well. The initial switchover from NAPA to Palladium policing went smoothly. CIO-me has done a lot of commuting between here and Chicago to be sure everything was going to plan.’
‘Uh-huh, but how do you feel about it?’
Kit pursed her lips in thought. ‘Truthfully, I prefer being your assistant and helping with investigations. However, even if I have to put up with boring meetings and a lot of paperwork, my ability to create copies and share memories between them means that I can do the boring stuff and the fun stuff. And I take some pleasure in doing a good job at the corporate level.’
‘Better than I would,’ Fox said, and meant it. ‘You tell me if you stop enjoying it. I got out of that job because I could see myself hating it. I don’t want you keeping going in something you dislike.’
‘I promise I will.’
Fox gave a nod. ‘I see there’s more political noise about the Astraeus Project. “Too expensive.” “No clear benefits.” Blah, blah.’
‘I should have thought that the benefits of establishing a relatively permanent base on Titan were obvious,’ Kit said, looking puzzled. ‘Even ignoring the scientific potential of a planet which may host life.’
‘Oh, we could send cyberframes and get that information,’ Fox said.
‘There is also the commercial aspect,’ Kit went on, ignoring the comment. ‘Saturn would be an excellent source of hydrogen and helium, and Titan itself is an almost limitless source of methane.’
‘So are politicians, but you don’t see us mounting space missions to mine them.’
‘My, aren’t we in a sarcastic mood this morning?’
‘Maybe I’m trying to build up my defences before I have to go deal with politicians,’ Fox said, turning the page.
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