by Rahul Bhagat
“It’s not manufactured. It’s a 3-D prin—” Natalie abruptly went silent. She stared at the piece in Martin’s hand. “Give that to me.” She snatched the plastic from Martin.
“Hey, you can ask for it,” Martin said.
But Natalie’s attention was riveted on that fragment of plastic. She held it close to her eyes and appeared to be looking for something. She picked up a magnifying glass and examined every inch of it closely. Then she threw the piece back on the table.
“Where are the other pieces of the clamp?” She demanded with frustration in her voice.
They collected all the pieces of the plastic mount, and Natalie examined each one carefully. But she still couldn’t find what she was looking for. Martin was desperate to know what she was doing but kept quiet. Experience had taught him not to ask her questions while she was working through a problem.
“Nothing.” Natalie threw the last piece on the table.
Martin thought for a moment. “Do we have all the pieces?”
They quickly arranged the plastic parts in the original shape of the clamp. One of the corners was missing. They looked everywhere, but it wasn’t there.
“I think it’s still in the ditch,” Martin said.
“We have to go back now,” Natalie said.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on here?”
“I will. Let’s find that piece first,” Natalie said with a sigh.
On their way to the ditch, they picked up gear and supplies from the police station. It was raining again, and looking for that missing piece of plastic was going to be a messy affair.
The ditch was full of soggy leaves. Brown and yellow, they formed a thick, bouncy layer on the uneven ground. Natalie asked Martin to stay on the road while she went down, looking for the missing plastic piece. She was clad in a shoulder-to-toe brown bunny suit and had a daylight drone buzzing overhead, which flooded the area in bright white light.
A wet leaf fell on Martin’s face, and he looked up at the trees. Their branches were almost bare; only a few leaves were holding out here and there. The rain fell down in a fine, misty haze.
“Where did you find that spoofing device?” Natalie asked from the bottom of the ditch.
He pointed her at the spot. She went over, sank down on the ground, and started raking through the leaves with her hands. Ten minutes of effort yielded only pieces of wood and lumps of rock.
“I’ve already searched that area,” Martin said from the edge of the road. “You have to search outside the perimeter.”
Natalie picked up a stick and drew a circle in the ground based on Martin’s instructions. Then starting from a point outside the circle, she moved clockwise, scouring the ground for the missing piece. It wasn’t long before Martin heard Natalie’s cry of joy. She triumphantly held up a muddied piece of plastic.
Back in the police cruiser, she rinsed the piece and quickly located what she was looking for—a pattern of microscopic dots etched in a corner of the plastic.
“That’s what I was searching for,” she said and showed the pattern to Martin.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“The dots are the unique signature of the printer that created this mount. The piece is made from standard PLA/PHA pellet, a very common material in 3-D printing. That’s how I knew the mount was 3-D printed.”
“What can we find from this signature?”
“The manufacturer, the printer’s unique ID, and from there, who bought it.”
“No way!”
“Yes way!” Natalie said with a smile.
She took a picture of the signature and fed it to AI Sleuth. It took mere seconds to find the information they were looking for, all thanks to Sleuth’s privileged access to vast manufacturing databases. The machine had been sold eighteen months ago to Lott Enterprises, to their R&D division. AI Sleuth dug further and found that the device was shared by researchers at the R&D center; people had to book time to use the machine, since it was expensive, high-end equipment. Fortunately, the signature also included the date and time stamp when the piece was fabricated. So the AI went ahead and located the usage log for that machine and found that the machine was booked by one Dr. Joshua Mousse during the time of the piece’s manufacture.
THIRTY-ONE
THE R&D division of Lott Enterprises was located within their sprawling manufacturing campus. Martin showed up uninvited and alone. He wanted to keep this away from Charlie and didn’t want to do anything to alert Dr. Joshua Mousse.
“Hi, I’m from the Go Team that’s investigating the crash. I wanted to speak with people in the R&D division,” Martin told the reception Bot and showed his police credentials.
A short while later, a man showed up. “Detective Stump, so sorry to keep you waiting. I understand you wanted to speak with someone in R&D. What is it you’re looking for?”
“Just some clarifications about the report you guys have put together. It’s mostly out of curiosity; I was hoping I could pick someone’s brain,” Martin said with a smile. His plan was to get inside R&D and then ask for Dr. Mousse under some pretext.
“We can certainly help you with that. We had to inform the investigator-in-charge. It’s standard protocol, and he’ll be here shortly. Hope you don’t mind waiting a little while longer.”
Martin cursed silently. This was the last thing he wanted. Now Charlie was going to show up, and Martin didn’t know what to do. He decided not to tell him anything till after he had met Dr. Mousse.
Charlie showed up at the reception in a surprisingly short time. “Martin, what’s going on?” he asked.
Martin played it cool. “Nothing, really. I want to understand some of the technical explanations in their report.”
“You could have asked me.”
“I was also curious to see the place, talk to people.”
Charlie didn’t say much after that, but Martin could see the suspicion in his eyes. They were handed visitor passes and placed in a moving platform that glided through a glass tube elevated ten feet off the ground. The tube went alongside a vast manufacturing assembly line of Lott Autonomous Vehicles.
Down on the factory floor, there was not a single person to be seen. Everywhere, humanoid robots were busy assembling vehicles at breakneck speed, their motion smooth, as if they were humans, but much, much faster.
“No one. Zero human population,” Martin said, looking out at the factory floor.
“Yep! It’s been a while since we got rid of that unpredictable, demanding wetware called humans from factory floor,” Charlie said.
“When I was a kid, I remember people still had factory jobs.” Martin pointed at the robots on the floor. “This is what they did all their lives. Go to factories and make things—cars, ships, trains.”
“Such dangerous work,” Charlie said. “I guess people didn’t have universal basic income back then, so they had to do whatever they could to earn money and put food on the table.”
“I guess so,” Martin said. “What the hell is going on over there?”
Up ahead was a rare sight. Their elevated position gave them a wide view of the factory floor. Away in the distance, they saw humans gathered on the ground. They were all clad in fluorescent-red overalls and huddled around a complex-looking piece of machinery. There were a couple of humanoid robots with them. The robots were dismantling the big machine on commands from someone in the group. They watched the group as they passed by. Someone looked up. It was a kid, barely out of his teenage years. He waved at them and flashed his teeth in braces.
“All the medical advancement, and we still can’t control teeth from growing crooked,” Charlie said.
They were dropped in front of the R&D division. “We make future happen” was scrawled in big bold letters on the wall. There was no one around.
“Who are we meeting with?” Charlie asked.
“You’ll see,” Martin said and walked through the doors. Inside, a wide, brightly lit hallway stretched in front of them. A
well-dressed man was walking toward them. Martin approached him and took out a tablet with Dr. Mousse’s picture.
“Excuse me, would you know where we could find Dr. Joshua Mousse?” Martin asked.
“Oh, Josh. He’ll be in the chemical lab,” the man said. “Just walk down the hallway and take the second right. See those doors?” The man pointed at a blue door farther down the hall. “He is in there somewhere.”
Martin thanked the man and walked toward the blue door. Charlie took the tablet from Martin’s hand and started reading Dr. Mousse’s profile.
“What do you want to talk to him about?” Charlie asked.
“Hold on. You’ll see,” Martin said.
“I thought we were partners, Martin,” Charlie said sarcastically.
“We are partners.” Martin turned to face Charlie. “Have some patience. I need to figure out some details, and then I’ll explain everything to you. I don’t want to confuse you right now.”
Charlie fumed, but that made no difference to Martin. They went through the blue door and were confronted by a maze of workbenches. Colorful chemicals in clear glass bottles lined the shelves. They gingerly walked through the maze, looking for Dr. Mousse or anyone. There was no one around, but at the next intersection, Martin bumped into a man.
“Excuse me,” Martin said. The man looked familiar. “Would you know Dr. Joshua Mousse?”
“Sure. That’s me,” the man said with a laugh. He didn’t have the goatee from the picture, or the glasses.
“Can we talk for a minute?” Martin asked him.
“Sure. I was going for a bite, anyway. What is it about?” Dr. Mousse asked.
“We are investigating the AV crash. Wanted to ask you some questions,” Martin said.
Dr. Mousse’s face turned white. He took a few steps backward as if he had seen a ghost. He staggered, reached out for support, and knocked bottles off the shelf. A couple of containers fell down on the table, and the liquid inside started pouring out and streamed down to the floor. The chemicals mixed, and noxious white fumes rose from the ground.
The doctor turned around and broke into a run. He disappeared in the labyrinth of workbenches, obscured by the rising white cloud. Martin hesitated, and that was when the fire alarm activated. A moment later the sprinklers started and drenched the entire area. People appeared out of nowhere and made a beeline for the exit. Martin and Charlie followed the crowd. It was useless looking for Dr. Mousse in that commotion.
Outside, Martin wiped his face and tried to clean himself with a towel. He was thinking about triggering a search for that doctor when Charlie showed up.
“Hey, Mr. Lott wants to talk,” he said, holding a phone in his hand.
“Who? The chairman?”
“That’s right. He wants to speak with us. Says it’s urgent.”
“Not now, Charlie. I have to find that doctor first,” Martin said and turned around. He felt annoyed. He wanted to catch up with Dr. Mousse before the man had time to invent a cover story.
“Listen.” Charlie came around to face Martin. “We should not antagonize him. I’ve already followed up on a search warrant for Dr. Mousse. As soon as he’s located, you’ll be informed.”
“Okay.” Martin relented and stretched his hand for Charlie’s phone.
“He wants to meet in person.”
“Then let’s do it after we’ve located Dr. Mousse.”
“Just come with me. Mr. Lott himself wants to speak with Dr. Mousse about the printed part. Everyone is looking for him.”
Martin thought for a moment. He couldn’t really do anything till Dr. Mousse was found. He considered calling Natalie but then decided to do it after speaking with Lott. They got in a vehicle, and Charlie instructed the AV to drive to Wallops Airport.
“Where exactly are we going, Charlie?” Martin asked.
“Colorado.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have time for this; I need to find that doctor as soon as possible.” Martin got up to leave.
Charlie grabbed his hand. “Listen, sit down. We are taking Mr. Lott’s hypersonic plane. We’ll be there in half an hour.”
Martin jerked his hand free and sat down reluctantly.
THIRTY-TWO
THE DRIVE TO the airport was mostly quiet. Charlie tried to be friendly and engage Martin in small talk, but something nagged him. Things were moving too fast. Was Charlie part of the conspiracy? Had Richard Lott engineered the crash? But why would he do that? And where did Rebekah fit in all of this?
Lott’s plane was already waiting at the tarmac when they arrived. The pilot ushered them inside, and even before they were settled, the plane started moving. There were only four seats in there, but it was spacious. Luxurious brown leather encased the upholstery, and everything sparkled. A bot served them a sparkling beverage in slim crystalware.
The plane was soon airborne. The bot disappeared, and a voice overhead warned them about the steep ascent. Lights dimmed, and the table in front of Martin retracted.
“Hey, what do I do with this drink?” Martin asked.
“Just hold it and get ready to experience raw power,” Charlie said.
Martin felt the aircraft tilt upward at a steeper and steeper angle. And then the scramjets engaged. He was pushed into the plush leather seat as if an elephant were sitting on his chest. For a moment, he was concerned whether his heart would be able to take the pressure, but then the force weakened and became a lot more bearable. He looked outside; the sky had turned a darker shade of blue. Slowly, the blue disappeared entirely and became pitch-black. Then he saw something twinkling. Stars.
The plane leveled, lights came back on, and the table reappeared in front of Martin.
“We have crossed the Karman line. Sixty-two miles above the ground. No air outside,” Charlie said.
“Are we in space?” Martin asked.
“Technically, yes. Hyperplanes travel at five times the speed of sound. At that speed, they can’t travel through air. The friction will just melt the wings. Is this your first time?”
“Yes.”
Charlie started eulogizing about hyperplanes, and that was when the realization hit Martin. Charlie had said Mr. Lott wanted to speak with Dr. Mousse about the printed part. How would he know about the printed part unless he was involved in it? A chill ran down Martin’s spine.
The overhead voice warned them of approaching descent.
“Already?” Martin tried to sound normal. “This thing moves fast.”
“Guess you’re not flying regular anymore.” Charlie laughed.
The plane landed high in the mountains, on a runway carved into a narrow valley. Outside, the cold wind blew strong, but the thin mountain air felt refreshing. Martin looked around at snow-covered peaks and followed Charlie to the end of the runway, where an AV was waiting for them. He wondered what awaited him and thought of alerting Natalie. But he couldn’t see how to do it inconspicuously and decided to wait for an opportune time. Once Charlie and Martin were seated, the AV started without a word and slowly meandered through narrow mountain roads.
The vehicle went through a series of tunnels and emerged in another valley. A large building was visible in the distance; it looked like an ancient Greek temple. As they got closer, Martin realized how thick the columns were. A man with a shaved head greeted them at the steps and ushered them inside.
“The nearest town, Walden, is three hundred miles to the northeast,” the man said. “Mr. Lott doesn’t like prying eyes. He zealously guards his privacy.”
They followed the man through a series of rooms and hallways to the back of the building and into a verdant garden in full bloom. Martin looked up at the dome-shaped roof made of glass. They walked between tall hedges, beside a large waterfall, around vines, and through heavenly-smelling flowers to a clearing in the middle of the dome. Mr. Lott was sitting on a bench, his eyes closed, contemplating something. Even in this state, the ever-present worried expression was plastered on his face. The man indicated
that they should wait there, and he left quietly.
Martin decided to play dumb. He was going to act as if Mr. Lott or Charlie had nothing to do with the crash.
They waited, but there was no movement from Mr. Lott. Charlie broke the silence and cleared his throat lightly, which did the trick, and Mr. Lott opened his eyes slowly.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming to see me,” he said in a gentle voice. “I hear there is a problem at the research lab.”
“Mr. Lott,” Martin said gravely, “I have grounds to believe that one of your staff scientists is involved in the murder of Paige Callaghan and Julie Marse.”
Mr. Lott sighed loudly. “The world is going to the dogs, Detective. The world is going to the dogs.” He paused and looked at Martin with sad eyes. “I have been thinking about your loss and feel personally responsible because it was a Lott vehicle.”
“Mr. Lott, it wasn’t your fault, but—” Martin said.
Lott continued talking as if he didn’t hear Martin. “Often things are beyond the control of mortal humans. I don’t think Julie had to die in that terrible accident. We can’t bring her back, but I want to make amends.” He looked Martin directly in the eyes. “I hear Julie was passionate about ridding the oceans of plastic,” Lott said. “This is something that is dear to me too. We are going to set up a foundation to spearhead this work, with an immediate infusion of ten million dollars. With your permission, we’d like to name the foundation after Julie Marse, and it will be our honor if you agree to serve as the executive director of the organization.”
Lott got up from the bench and put his arms around Martin. “What do you say? This could become your life’s mission.”
Martin stepped away from Richard Lott and said harshly, “Mr. Lott, Julie was murdered. My life’s mission has already been decided.”
“Yes, of course.” Lott took a step back.
Martin wondered if that was the right move on his part. He should have been more vague. Here, in this secluded place, he was at their mercy.