Her eyes narrowed, staring hard at me.
«Now what?» I snapped.
«What's that on the back of your neck?»
My anger voided into some black chasm. «A dermal patch,» I said calmly. «It's there because I had an affinity symbiont implant this afternoon.»
«How could you?» She simply stared at me, completely expressionless. «How could you, Harvey? After all the Church has done for us.»
«I did it because I have to, it's my job.»
«We mean so little to you, don't we?»
«You mean everything.»
Jocelyn shook her head. «No. I won't have any more of your lies.» She put the clothes down gently on one of the pods. «If you want to talk, I shall be in the church. Praying for all of us.»
I didn't even know there was a church in Eden. It seemed a little strange given the current state of relations between the Vatican and the habitat. But then there's always that more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner piousness to consider.
I really ought to make an effort not to be so bitter.
Nicolette had slumped down onto the bed when I went back to her.
«You had a row,» she said without looking up.
I sat on the mattress beside her. She's a lovely girl; perhaps not cable starlet beautiful, but she's tall, and slim, and she's got a heart-shaped face with shoulder-length auburn hair. Very popular with the boys back in the arcology. I'm so proud of what she is, the way she's growing up. I wasn't going to let Earth stunt her, not with Eden able to offer so much more. «Yes, we had a row.» Again.
«I didn't know she was going to be so upset over the chimps.»
«Hey, what happens between me and your mother isn't your fault. I don't want to hear you blaming yourself again.»
She sniffed heavily, then smiled. «Thanks, Dad.»
«Use the chimps in here all you want, but for God's sake don't let them into the house.»
«OK. Dad, did you really have a symbiont implant?»
«Yes.»
«Can I have one? The orientation officer said you can't really expect to live here without one.»
«I expect so. But not this week, all right?»
«Sure, Dad. I think I want to fit in here. Eden looks gorgeous.»
I put my arm round her shoulders and kissed her cheek. «Do you know where your brother is?»
«No, he went off with some boys after the orientation lecture.»
«Well, when he comes in, warn him not to allow the chimps into the house.»
I left her to herself and went into the lounge. The bubble cube Zimmels had given me was in my jacket pocket. I settled down in the big settee, and slotted it into my PNC wafer. The menu with the file names appeared; there were over a hundred and fifty of them. I checked down them quickly, but there was no entry for Corrine Arburry.
Content I had at least one sympathetic ally, I started to review the masters of the revolution.
My second day started with Penny Maowkavitz's funeral. Rolf and I attended, representing the police, both of us in our black dress uniforms.
The church was a simple A-frame of polished aluminium girders with tinted glass for walls. I estimated nearly two hundred people turned up for the service, with about eighty more milling outside. I sat in the front pew along with the Governor and other senior Eden staff from the UN and JSKP. Father Cooke conducted the service, with Antony Harwood reading a lesson from the Bible: Genesis, naturally. I knew him from Zimmels's files, another of Boston's premier activists.
Afterwards we all trooped out of the church and down a track into a wide glade several hundred metres from the town. Fasholé Nocord led the procession, carrying the urn containing Penny's ashes. Anyone who dies in Eden is cremated; they don't want bodies decomposing in the earth, apparently they take too long, and as Eden hasn't quite finished growing there's always the chance they'll come to the surface again as the soil layer is gradually redistributed.
A small shallow hole had been dug at the centre of the glade. Pieter Zernov stepped up to it and put a large jet-black seed in the bottom; it looked like a wrinkled conker to me.
«It was Penny's wish that she should finish up here,» he said loudly. «I don't know what the seed is, except it was one of her designs. She told me that for once she had forgone function, and settled for something that just looks damn pretty. I'm sure it does, Penny.»
As Pieter stood back an old Oriental man in a wheelchair came forwards. It was a very old-fashioned chair, made from wood, with big wheels that had chrome wire spokes, there was no motor. A young woman was pushing him over the thick grass. I couldn't see much of her; she had a broad black beret perched on her head, a long white-blonde ponytail swung across her back, and her head was bowed. But the old man . . . I frowned as he scooped up a handful of ash from the urn Fasholé Nocord held out.
«I know him, I think,» I whispered to Rolf.
That earned me another of those looks I was becoming all too familiar with. «Yes, sir; that's Wing-Tsit Chong.»
«Bloody hell.»
Wing-Tsit Chong let Penny's ashes fall from his hand, a small plume of dry dust splattering into the hole. A geneticist who was at least Penny Maowkavitz's equal, the inventor of affinity.
Father Leon Cooke cornered me on the way back to town. Both genial and serious in that way only priests know how. He was in his late sixties, wearing the black and turquoise vestments of the Unified Christian Church.
«Penny's death was a terrible tragedy,» he said. «Especially in a closed community like this one. I hope you apprehend the culprit soon.»
«I'll do my best, Father. It's been a hectic two days so far.»
«I'm sure it has.»
«Did you know Penny?»
«I knew of her. I'm afraid that relations between the Church and most of the biotechnology people have become a little strained of late. Penny was no exception; but she came to a few services. When confronted with their approaching death, people do tend to show a degree of curiosity in the possibility of the divine. I didn't hold it against her. Everyone must come to faith in their own way.»
«Did you hear her confession?»
«Now, my son, you know I can never answer that. Even more than doctors, we priests hold the secrets of our flock close to our hearts.»
«I was just wondering if she ever mentioned suicide?»
He stopped beside a tree with small purple-green serrated leaves, tufty orange flowers bloomed at the end of every branch. Dark grey eyes regarded me with a humorous compassion. «I expect you have been told Penny Maowkavitz was a thorny character. Well, with that came a quite monstrous arrogance; Penny did not run away from anything life threw at her, not even her terrible illness. She would not commit suicide. I don't think anybody up here would.»
«That's a very sweeping statement.»
The tail end of the mourners filed past us; we were earning quite a few curious glances. I saw Rolf standing fifteen metres down the track, waiting patiently.
«I'll be happy to discuss it with you, perhaps at a more appropriate time.»
«Of course, Father.»
A guilty smile flickered over Leon Cooke's face. «I talked to your wife, yesterday.»
I tried to maintain an impassive expression. But he was a priest . . . I doubt he was fooled. «I don't expect she painted a very complimentary picture of me. We'd just had a row.»
«I know. Don't worry, my son, it was a very modest row compared to some of the couples I've had to deal with.»
«Deal with?»
He ignored the irony. «You know she doesn't belong in this habitat, don't you?»
I shifted round uncomfortably under his gaze. «Can you think of a better place for our children to grow up?»
«Don't dodge the issue, my son.»
«All right, Father, I'll tell you exactly why she doesn't care for Eden. It's because of the Pope's ludicrous proclamation on the affinity gene. The Church turned her again
st this habitat and what it represents. And I have to tell you, in my opinion the Church has made its biggest mistake since it persecuted Galileo. This is my second day here, and I've already started to think how I can make my posting permanent. If you want to help, you might try and convince her that affinity isn't some satanic magic.»
«I will help the two of you any way I can, my son. But I can hardly contradict a papal decree.»
«Right. It's funny, most couples like us would have divorced years ago.»
«Why didn't you? Though I'm glad to see you haven't, that's an encouraging sign.»
I smiled wryly. «Depends how you read it. We both have our reasons. Me; I keep remembering what Jocelyn used to be like. My Jocelyn, she's still in there. I know she is, if I could just find a way of reaching her.»
«And Jocelyn, what's her reason?»
«That's a simple one. We made our vows before God. Richer or poorer, better or worse. Even if we were legally separated, in God's eyes we remain husband and wife. Jocelyn's family were Catholics before the Christian reunification, that level of devotion is pretty hard to shake off.»
«I get the impression you blame the Church for a lot of your situation.»
«Did Jocelyn tell you why she places so much weight on what the Church says?»
«No.»
I sighed, hating to bring up those memories again. «She had two miscarriages, our third and fourth children. It was pretty traumatic; the medical staff at the arcology hospital were convinced they could save them. God, it looked like she was being swallowed by machinery. It was all useless, of course. Doctors don't have half as much knowledge about the human body as they lay claim to.
«After the second time she . . . lost faith in herself. She became very withdrawn, listless, she wasn't even interested in the twins. A classic depression case. Everything the hospital did was orientated on the physical, you see. That's their totem, I suppose. But we were lucky in a way. Our arcology had a good priest. Quite a bit like you, actually. He gave us a lot of his time; if he'd been a psychiatrist I'd call it counselling. He made Jocelyn believe in herself again, and at the same time believe in the Church. I'm very grateful for that.»
«Only in word, I suspect,» Leon Cooke said softly.
«Yeah. You're a very insular institution, very conservative. Did you know that, Father? This fuss over affinity is a good example. Jocelyn used to have a very open mind.»
«I see.» He looked pained. «I shall have to think about what you've told me. It saddens me to see the Church forming such a wedge between two loving people. I think you've both drifted too far from each other. But don't give up hope, my son, there's no gulf which can't be bridged in the end. Never give up hope.»
«Thank you, Father. I'll do my best.»
There appeared to be a fair amount of honest toil going on in the incident room when Rolf and I walked in. Most of the CID staff were at their desks; a chimp was walking round carrying a tray of drinks. I claimed a large spongesteel desk at the front of the room, and slung my dress uniform jacket over the chair. «OK, what progress have we made?»
Shannon was already walking towards me, a PNC wafer in her hand, and a cheerful expression on her face. «I retrieved a copy of Maowkavitz's will from the court computer.» She dropped the wafer on the desk in front of me, its display surface was covered with close-packed lines of orange script.
«Give me the highlights,» I said. «Any possible suspects? A motive?»
«The whole thing is a highlight, boss. It's a very simple will; Maowkavitz's entire estate, including Pacific Nugene, gets turned into a trust. Initial estimates put the total value at around eight hundred million wattdollars. She left no guidelines on how it was to be used. Monies are to be distributed in whatever way the trustees see fit, providing it is a majority decision. That's it.»
Rolf and I exchanged a nonplussed glance. «Is that legal?» I asked. «I mean, can't the relatives challenge it?»
«Not really. I consulted the Eden attorney's office. The will's very simplicity makes it virtually unchallengeable. Maowkavitz recorded a video testimony with a full polygraph track to back it up; and the witnesses are real heavyweights, including—would you believe—the ex-Vice-President of America, and the current Chairwoman of the UN Bank. And Maowkavitz's only relatives are some very distant cousins, none of whom she's ever had any contact with.»
«Who are the trustees?»
Shannon's fingernail tapped the wafer. «There are three. Pieter Zernov, Antony Harwood, and Bob Parkinson. Maowkavitz also lists another eight people should any of her initial choices die.»
I studied the list of names. «I know all of these.» I pushed the wafer over to Rolf who scanned it quickly, and gave me a reluctant nod.
«Boston's leadership,» I mused.
Shannon's grin was pure wickedness. «Prove it. There's no such thing as Boston. It isn't entered in any databank; there are no records, no listings of any kind. Technically, it doesn't exist. Even Eden's surveillance can only turn up bar talk.»
I toyed with the wafer on my desk. «What do they want the money for? Harwood and Parkinson are both rich in their own right. In fact I think Harwood is actually richer than Maowkavitz.»
«They're going to buy guns,» Shannon said. «Arm the peasants so they can storm the Winter Palace.»
I gave her a censorious stare. «This is a murder inquiry, Shannon. Contribute, or keep silent, please.»
She gave an unrepentant shrug. «The modern equivalent of guns. However they figure on bringing off their coup, it won't be cheap.»
«Good point. OK, I want to speak to these three trustees. We won't bring them in for questioning, not yet. But I do want to interview them today, ask them what they're planning on doing with the money. Rolf, set it up, please.» I fished my own PNC wafer from my jacket pocket, and summoned up a file I'd made the previous evening. «And Shannon, I want you to access the wills of everyone on this list, please. I'd like to see if they've made similar arrangements to hand over their wealth after they die.»
She read the names as I downloaded the file into her wafer, then let out a low whistle. «You're well informed, boss.»
«For someone who told me Boston doesn't exist, so are you.»
She sauntered back to her desk.
«Hoi Yin examined the servitor chimp yesterday,» Rolf said. «She hasn't had any luck recovering the memory of who gave it the order to shoot Penny.»
«Bugger. Does she think she'll ever be able to get at the memory?»
«I don't think so, from what she told me. But she said she'd come in again this morning, after the funeral. You could ask her.»
«I'll do that; I need the background information anyway. What have we assembled on Penny Maowkavitz's last few days?»
«Purely routine stuff, I'm afraid. She wasn't letting her illness interfere with her work. The JSKP Biotechnology Division has been busy preparing for Ararat's arrival, which she was supervising. And Davis Caldarola says she was still performing design work for Pacific Nugene. She was working ten-, twelve-hour days. Nothing out of the ordinary for her. She never did a lot of socializing, and she'd been cutting back on that recently anyway. According to the people we've interviewed so far she didn't have any really big rows with anybody, certainly not in the last few weeks. They were all treating her with kid gloves because of the cancer.»
It sounded to me like Penny Maowkavitz was someone who had come to terms with her fate, and was trying to get as much done as possible in what time she had remaining. «That's her work. What about her Boston meetings?»
«Sir?»
«She must have had them, Rolf. She was supposed to be their leader. Were they argumentative? I can't imagine them being particularly smooth, not when you're discussing how to take over an entire city-state.»
«There's no way of knowing. You see, Shannon was right about not having any evidence against Boston, their leadership would never have met in the flesh, not for that. All their discussions
would have taken place using affinity. Nobody can intercept them.»
«I thought affinity up here was communal.»
«It is, but we have what we call singular engagement mode. It means you can hold private conversations with anyone inside a fifteen-kilometre radius.»
«Oh, wonderful. OK, what about these genetic designs she was working on when she died? What were they? Anything a rival company would kill to prevent her from finishing?»
«I don't know. The Pacific Nugene laboratory up here wasn't working on anything radical; mostly transgenic crops for Eden's Agronomy Division, and some sort of servitor which could operate effectively in free fall. If she was working on anything else, we haven't uncovered it yet. She did a lot of the initial softsplice work on her home computer, then turned it over to a lab team to refine and develop up to commercial standard. We haven't been able to access many of her files so far. She used some very complex entry guard codes. It'll take time to crack them. I'll give it to Shannon when she's finished with the wills, it's her field.»
«Fine, keep me informed.»
Hoi Yin was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen—the most beautiful I imagine it's possible to see. She came into my office half an hour after I finished in the incident room. I didn't just stare, I gawped.
She was still in the demure black dress she had worn at the funeral. And that was the second surprise, she was the one I'd seen pushing Wing-Tsit Chong's wheelchair.
Her figure was spectacular enough; but it was the combination of diverse racial traits which made her so mesmerizing. Fine Oriental features defined by avian bones, with dark African lips, and the fairest Nordic hair, tawny eyes which appeared almost golden. She had to be the greatest cosmetic gene-adaptation ever put together. She wasn't genetic engineering, she was genetic artistry.
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