Dominance

by Niall Teasdale

  ‘Hi, Naomi,’ Fox began. ‘You–’ And the words cut out as Naomi smothered them in a kiss which started out passionate and refused to give up. Naomi broke it because, unlike Fox, she really needed to breathe rather than thinking she did. ‘You, uh, could have waited upstairs,’ Fox said with the taste of the other woman still on her tongue.

  Naomi smiled. ‘Privacy is both a byword of my profession and a very complicated subject. I just wished to welcome you back to the metro and Belle indicated that she was expecting you to return soon. From whatever you were up to. Case related, I’m sure.’

  Waving for Naomi to follow, Fox headed for the kitchen, which would get her to the back stairs which went up to her apartment. ‘It’ll hit the news soon enough. Walker Burrage is dead. Same killer. I was processing the scene.’

  ‘Oh,’ Naomi said. ‘Unlike the other victims, he did not really come to my notice.’

  ‘No. I’m not surprised. He was a rep for a weapons manufacturer. The others were all vote brokers. Conservatives. The only link really was that they all knew Sherman Wayden and went on a research tour of Fargo Agri-Zone.’

  Naomi nodded. ‘How was Fargo? You seemed… subdued when you called last night.’

  ‘Fargo was cold, not that I really noticed. I think something really bad happened there during that tour. Anyway, I need to get a few things sorted out and run a sleep cycle.’

  ‘That’s early.’

  ‘I’m doing the night shift at David Neiman’s place. Of the people on that tour, only him and Sherman Wayden are left. Wayden refused our protection, obviously, but there’s a chance we might nab the killer when she goes for Neiman.’

  There was a short pause as they walked down the hallway in Fox’s apartment. ‘You know who it is,’ Naomi said.

  ‘I have a pretty good idea. I have a pretty good idea why she’s doing it, but no proof. If I can get some, it won’t be just the killer who ends up in Rikers.’

  ‘You think Wayden was involved in… whatever happened?’

  ‘Pretty sure, yeah.’

  ‘That could cause something of a shitstorm. Palladium’s lead investigator goes after one of the Wayden upper management.’

  ‘Of this, I am also aware. I need a shower. Processing crime scenes is never a nice way to spend time.’

  Naomi smiled again, this time rather more lasciviously than before. ‘Well, since you’ll be working tonight, why don’t I wash your back.’

  Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Wash my back? Really?’

  ‘Trust me. I’m a nun.’

  ~~~

  ‘How’s he been?’ Fox asked as she stood on the doorstep of David Neiman’s house.

  Sam shrugged. ‘About what I would have expected. I’m not actually sure that he fits the dictionary definition of a misogynist. He doesn’t hate women, or find them contemptible, and I believe he understands the concept of “no means no.” It’s just that he assumes women want to sleep with him and his ability to surround himself with semi-nude actresses just compounds his convictions. He’s…’

  ‘Slime?’

  ‘I’m sure there are some very culturally sensitive slimes around who would find that remark insulting. Good luck. I’m relieving you at ten, yes?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Twelve hours with this guy… I hope he likes to get a full eight hours.’

  It had been an interesting afternoon. It had started exceptionally well, in the shower with Naomi. Thoughts of that would likely keep Fox warm through the night, but she was not going to go there until Neiman was safely tucked up in bed. Then the forensics team had come back with the initial report on Burrage’s apartment. They had found a box of the mysterious nanodrug. The box had slots for sixteen bottles and nine were missing. Fox could account for two…

  Then again, she still had no idea what the stuff did. She had put a call through to BioTek and been told that they were still working on simulating the programming’s effect on a human. Initial results suggested that the drug was designed to attack the nervous system, but the specifics were still unknown. She had asked them to put as much of a rush on it as possible, knowing that there was only so much rush you could achieve.

  Neiman was lying beside the pool, surrounded by his usual bevy of beauties, even at ten p.m. He smiled as Fox walked in. ‘Hey, babe. Pull up a bench. Have a drink. We won’t mind if you want to lose some of those clothes.’

  Fox had come in one of her usual outfits for work: fake leather jacket with a ballistic liner, faded jeans, sneakers, and a black teddy. She took off her jacket, dropping it onto a lounger near to where Bubbles was lying. Neiman’s smile got broader. Then Fox took her pistol from behind her back, popped the magazine and looked at it as though checking the load, slapped the mag back into place, and holstered the weapon. Neiman’s smile had become a little forced when she turned to look at him.

  ‘Let’s get a few things straight, Mister Neiman,’ Fox said. ‘If you call me “babe” again, I’ll teach you the meaning of “police brutality” without the use of diagrams. Second, I’m here to stop you being killed, not to be your friend. Third, alcohol doesn’t affect me, so you’re not getting into my panties that way. Please don’t try to think of any other ways. I don’t really want to touch you, never mind hurt you. Are we clear?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sure,’ Neiman groused. ‘Don’t know what you’re missing, but yeah.’

  ‘Given who I am sleeping with at the moment, Mister Neiman, I assure you that I’m missing absolutely nothing. I’m going to take a walk around and make sure this goldfish bowl is as secure as it can be. Stay here and enjoy the tits.’

  ‘Wasn’t planning to move,’ Neiman said, rallying a little.

  ‘Didn’t think you were.’

  ~~~

  Neiman made a point of retiring moderately early, which was really not an issue for Fox, and taking three of his young women with him. Fox got the distinct impression that he was showing off. Or maybe hoping that the thought of a small orgy would persuade his bodyguard to join them. Neither of these options really worked as intended.

  Bubbles was not among the trio and she stayed up, sitting with Fox in the lounge nearest to Neiman’s bedroom. The wall between the lounge and the bedroom, as well as the walls all around the two rooms, was glass, but Fox had closed all the blinds and, when Neiman had complained, she had told him what a sniper rifle would do to his head. The reality was that Lomax would not use a rifle to kill Neiman: she wanted to be up close and personal when she killed. However, the explanation shut Neiman up. Bubbles was another matter.

  ‘Do you really think someone wants to kill Davy? I mean, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to. He’s so nice.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Fox replied. ‘He’s just a sexually predatory teddy bear. That may be unfair. To teddy bears.’

  ‘I don’t know why you would say that. He’s smart and–’

  ‘I’m supposed to be stopping him from dying, and he can’t stop himself from coming on to me. What happens when the killer turns up while he’s banging away?’

  ‘Oh, well… He is good in bed.’

  ‘My girlfriend is Naomi Lind.’

  ‘Uh, oh.’

  Bubbles clearly thought that was a trumping argument, but saying the words had a weird effect on Fox. Was Naomi her girlfriend? Well, the kiss to welcome Fox back to the metro had not been the kind of thing two acquaintances shared; Naomi thought they were more than just friends with benefits. Okay, so Fox had a new girlfriend without really trying to find one. She had put at least a little effort into Pieter and Marie… and Jason. Naomi had put the effort in this time. Did that make it different? Was this time going to turn out better?

  ‘You should talk to Naomi,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind. ‘Find out whether this is serious before you think about dumping her to save her.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to–’ Fox began.

  ‘I’m in your head and I know you far too well, Fox.’

  ‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Bubbles said. ‘I usually fill in silences by babbling
, so you should say something before I say something stupid.’

  Fox flashed the blonde a grin. ‘Sorry. I was talking to my PA. I don’t think you’re that stupid. You seem to know Mister Neiman’s calendar backwards.’

  Bubbles waved the comment away. ‘Oh, facts. Facts I can remember. Dates, names, places. I mean, our scripts aren’t exactly Shackspear, but I remember my lines, first time, every time.’

  ‘It’s, um, Shakespeare,’ Fox corrected.

  ‘Oh.’ Bubbles gave a giggle. ‘No one’s told me I was saying it wrong before. I’ll remember that now. But I’m slow. I don’t… get jokes. Or a lot of other things.’

  ‘I suspect you’re selling yourself short,’ Fox replied. Considering her feelings regarding Neiman and her suspicion that he might end up in Rikers soon, Fox had to consider giving at least a partial warning. ‘You should look at other options. Work outside of this business. This company at least.’

  Bubbles… Piper – Fox decided that she really had to stop thinking of her as Bubbles – gave a shrug. ‘Davy’s good to me. You’ll make sure no one kills him and everything will be good.’ She grinned. ‘Say, is Mister Clarion seeing anyone at the moment? He’s dreamy.’

  ‘His girlfriend just moved in with him,’ Fox replied and Piper’s face fell a little. ‘But you’re right. He is dreamy.’

  23rd January.

  Until the rollover of the old year into the new, Fox had viewed pseudo-political cocktail parties and their like as an annoying necessity. She was there to take care of business, making sure that Palladium got its fair share of the private policing contracts. Very occasionally, they were fun. Now, there was only the annoyance, but this one was still necessary so she had put on a short purple dress with a cleavage window, heels, and her best professional smile, and here she was.

  At least it was for charity. In this case, the organisers were working on funding a plan to get more education into the Sprawls. Millions of Americans lived in slums, or worse, in the largely disused regions of American cities. They had little access to modern education which meant that society had a reservoir of people who did not undergo the memetic programming that tended to push people toward being honest, law-abiding citizens. Plus, they were never going to crawl out of poverty if they never learned to.

  A good cause, but Fox was not there to eat the food and schmooze. She spent the entire luncheon section of the event walking the perimeter and keeping an eye on Jarvis’s security people. There were, in fact, a mix of Palladium security staff, brought in to increase the numbers, and Palladium cops doing standard VIP work. The big advantage was that they were all on the same communications system, and Fox was linked into that with a tactical analysis program running on one of her secondary processors to keep an eye on things. She could see where everyone was. Well, everyone except for the squad of muppets Toliver Whitton had insisted on bringing along: his personal bodyguard team. They were running their own comms and had refused to link in with the police detail. Fox hated loose cannons and there were six of them wandering around the hall where the event was taking place.

  Someone had built the place, from scratch, thirty years earlier, but it was modelled after something like a New England village hall. Aside from the broad, glassed-in terrace which overlooked Great South Bay. Outside those windows, though you could not see it currently, there was a hydraulically mounted sea wall which could be lifted to shield the place from storm surges. Clever. However, it made for an enormously open, easily breached environment. Palladium had diverted three patrol frames to monitor the seaward side of the building. The Brooklyn Sprawl was just that little bit less secure for the next few hours.

  And, with the food – food which would have likely kept the sprawlers happy for weeks – consumed as though by a pack of rabid locusts, everyone moved out onto the terrace for drinks and serious socialising. There had, undoubtedly, been deals done over lunch, but now was when the charity people would be really working the floor. And they had decided to do it in front of a huge window, with a clear view for anyone sitting in a boat in the bay.

  ‘I think you may be being a little paranoid,’ Kit suggested as Fox roamed the terrace with an untouched glass of wine in her hand.

  ‘Probably. The question is whether I’m being sufficiently paranoid. You’re monitoring the patrol frames?’

  ‘You asked me to. They are monitoring six vessels in the bay which are potential threats, but none of those are imminent. There are people on the beach, but none show indications of threat either.’

  Fox stopped herself from nodding and smiled at the man she was passing, fairly sure he would not notice since he was watching her breasts. ‘If something happens, something related to the Detroit bombing, it’ll probably be inside the building.’

  ‘I am also monitoring the security microbots inside the hall,’ Kit said. ‘The building was swept before the event started, and the swarm is still in place, watching for anything which should not be here.’

  ‘Okay. So that leaves me and the rest of the team watching for someone who shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  A voice called out Fox’s name from a few metres away and she turned to see one of the NAPA administrators waving at her. ‘I just hope my brain doesn’t melt from boredom before this ends,’ she said and started over.

  ~~~

  ‘How’s it going?’ Fox asked, keeping her voice relatively low.

  Mariel Hoarsen smiled, and she kept on smiling as she said, ‘You don’t really think I enjoy these things, do you, Fox?’

  ‘But you always look like you do, because you’re supposed to.’

  ‘Indeed. Honestly, you don’t really look like you hate being here as much as you claim to. Either you’re one of those people who doesn’t know they’re having a good time until they do, or you’ve mastered the art of the diplomatic smile.’

  Fox gave a slight shrug. ‘It helps that I can claim I’m working. I am here as part of the security detail.’

  ‘Let’s you get away before you have to shoot someone?’ Mariel’s smile looked more genuine now.

  ‘Yeah. That’s pretty much it. I–’

  ‘Miss Hoarsen. Captain Meridian. I’d like a word.’ Whitton’s voice came from behind them, which was probably a good thing since it meant that he saw neither of them grimace.

  ‘If you’d like to shoot anyone…’ Mariel said, and she left it hanging as Whitton stepped up beside them. Mariel gave him her best diplomatic smile. ‘Representative. How may we help you?’

  ‘The Winsford case,’ Whitton said. ‘I’d like to know–’

  ‘I thought we’d been through this,’ Fox said. ‘I’m not allowed to give out information on an ongoing investigation, and you need to go through the legally defined channels to get any information you need.’

  ‘We’ve had three deaths now,’ Whitton began, his eyes hardening.

  ‘Five,’ Fox interrupted. ‘Maybe six. I’m also looking into several disappearances in the Fargo Agri-Zone which may be related. I am actively looking into this case, Representative. I’m leaving no stones unturned and I will get to the bottom of this quagmire.’

  ‘A quagmire?’ Mariel said. ‘Oh, my. I should be careful, Toliver. You don’t want any mud splashing your way.’

  Whitton’s colour shifted, reds of rage forming around his throat. ‘The only mud-slinging going on around here–’

  ‘Careful, Representative,’ Fox said. ‘My memory is admissible in court.’

  ‘Thomas Winsford was not the kind of man who–’

  Fox leaned closer, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. ‘Yes, he was. If I were you, I’d start distancing myself from Thomas Winsford. If what I suspect is true, when this goes to court, you’re going to want to have nothing to do with him. And, as Mariel said, mud sticks.’

  ‘You really are backing the wrong horse on this one, Toliver,’ Mariel said.

  ‘You know the details?’ Whitton asked.

  ‘No. No, I don’t. Deta
ils of specific cases are not passed up to the board of Palladium’s parent company. That would be against protocol and illegal.’

  ‘Then–’

  ‘The difference between you and me is that I know Captain Meridian personally. I know that she does not make accusations without evidence. If she is telling you that trying to save Thomas Winsford will backfire on you, you should listen. Besides, he was an entirely reprehensible man purely on his politics. Don’t take yourself down trying to defend a misogynistic bigot with megalomaniac tendencies.’

  Whitton stared at Mariel for a second and then turned without saying a word.

  ‘You really didn’t like Winsford, did you?’ Fox asked.

  ‘Not even slightly,’ Mariel replied pleasantly. ‘I don’t like Toliver Whitton either. I really hope he doesn’t give up trying to save Winsford’s rep.’

  ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t have to, Fox. You’re an intelligent woman.’

  ~~~

  The intelligent woman scanned the hall, wondering what she had missed. Nothing had happened; the hall remained as quiet as any lunchtime function with an abundance of booze, but Fox was sure she had seen something which had not quite made it into her conscious awareness. So, she stood with Jackson and Mariel as they talked to some of the charity people, and scanned for anything which did not make sense.

  ‘Where’s Whitton?’ Fox asked silently.

  ‘Hidden behind the crowd on your right,’ Kit replied. ‘I have him on three of the security cameras. He has one of his bodyguards with him. The others are walking the room.’

  ‘Keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘That’s odd,’ Jackson said and Fox’s attention snapped to him.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought I knew all the standard sculpts on the Sylph and Djinn models.’

  Fox followed his gaze just in time to spot a figure in the waistcoat, shirt, and slacks of the serving staff as he passed out of view thanks to that crowd on the right. MarTech had arranged for an entire staff of androids to handle the service roles, all of them Sylph or Djinn models since they were the most human-looking. ‘Stay here,’ Fox said and, since Kit was busy watching Whitton, Fox ran a query to her short-term memory to locate images of all the Djinns she had seen in the last few minutes.