Once outside, he walked unhurriedly up the street, strolling, heading for the shuttle stop. Time to put his observational faculties to work, or at least attempt to kick-start them again. In a way, things were too easy here in Yorkstone. There was none of the grit and struggle to be found back in the Locality, no hard edge to keep you sharp.
He boarded the shuttle, glancing around at its other occupants and the interior, assessing, before taking up his usual spot. Clean, pale green seats. Slick white interior. Soothing. Smooth, padded handholds and railing colored in neutral gray. Advertising was even kept to a minimum. Maybe that was the difference between Yorkstone and the Locality. The Locality had deep corporate roots, whereas Yorkstone had grown from a sense of shared community. The origins walked through the unconscious mind, shaping the way people acted and interacted. The Locality was all about profit. Yorkstone, on the other hand, was all about having a life, a clean, safe, family life. His fellow passengers showed that. Over to one side sat a large woman. Plump and jolly. Sensible shoes. Decked out in florals. She carried a bag with her. Further down the compartment was a man with a kid. They were watching the outside together and passing the occasional comment to each other with a smile and a look which spoke of clear bonding. There was nothing untoward there. Clean and healthy. Jack wondered briefly if he and Billie looked like that to the casual observer. He turned to watch the passing streets and plazas as they traveled slowly past.
Alighting near a small paved park, Jack strolled over to take in the trees and the empty uncluttered space. He found a bench to one side and wandered over, sitting, crossing his legs and leaning his head back to look up through the clear ceiling panels. Far above clouds drifted over, white and scattered. The sky was clear, blue. It was nothing like the green tinge that had been there floating through his dreams over the past few days. He watched the clouds as they sailed past, thinking. It was funny; without the work Outreach had done on the drive, there was no way anyone could have even contemplated what Jack thought they were considering. A few years ago, there could have been no conception of traveling such enormous distances on the hope that something might just be there. The supposed alien world would have just been another interesting conjecture with no hope of reaching it. Technology surrounded you and you absorbed it. It informed your decisions and choices, without even having to consider them, and at the same time, it shifted your boundaries. Each new innovation that became a part of their lives changed everyone’s expectations. Within the space of a couple of years, people, not everyone, but at least a select few, were suddenly considering seeking out an alien civilization as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He shook his head, rubbing gently at his throat with one hand. And who knew what might happen if those people succeeded. He knew what they were like, what drove them.
Choices. He had a few options now too. The problem was, he didn’t particularly like some of the choices that came so naturally. Yorkstone wasn’t right. He just knew it was this oh-so-pleasant place that was limiting him, limiting what he could get involved in. And if he couldn’t get the cases, then he wouldn’t have the income needed to support them both. The problem was, the sort of events that turned into cases for Jack happened in places that had a true underbelly—places where that hard edge was a normal part of everyday life. They’d left the Locality because of that very thing. He’d wanted to get Billie out, away from it, and that’s why they were here in the first place. Maybe what he should be doing was thinking about finding some alternative arrangement for Billie.
He grimaced. No, he didn’t even want to think about that. He had a responsibility. He’d dragged her out of the place; it was his duty to make sure she was okay and he didn’t need anybody else’s help to do that. She was such a weird kid anyway. He doubted she’d settle well with anyone else. She needed someone like Jack, someone who could understand how and why she was the way she was. Maybe that was just rationalization, but it felt right.
He sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and stared down at the paving, tracing the lines with his gaze. Lines. Just like the lines in his dream, leading off into the distance. There was something he was missing about this whole thing—apart from Bridgett Farrell. Why would she take off like that? The only thing he could think of was that she thought she was in danger. That was if nothing had happened to her too, and he had to consider that as a real possibility. Well, if she turned up dead, he was sure Morrish and his partner would be the first to let him know. He could just see Laduce’s face now.
Jack stood, stretching, easing some of the kinks out of his back, and walked slowly around the small low-walled space. This was getting him nowhere. It seemed like his little excursion was in vain. All he was doing was turning things over and over in his head, no sensations, no insights, nothing useful. He might as well get back to the apartment and try and do some real work, see if Billie had come up with anything. He took one last look up at the sky before heading off to the shuttle stop that would take him back home. It was all very well acting on things, but if fate didn’t start lending a helping hand soon, Jack was going to be in trouble, and Billie with him. The thought gave him pause. It shouldn’t be up to the fates to lend a hand, should it? But that’s what it was like. Just sometimes, you could simply sit back and things would eventually fall into place. Jack grimaced. Maybe that was part of the problem, that expectation. It was about time he stopped expecting things and took events into his own hands.
Sixteen
“Answer,” said Jack.
Bridgett Farrell’s face bled into view, dominating his office wall. She wore a high-collared demure dark suit. Her hair was immaculately done, but the jewelry was missing. She looked into his office from the screen, waiting. The slight touch of her tongue between her lips came a moment later. Jack felt a sudden drop in his stomach, but pushed it aside. This woman really was something. For a moment he was lost for words. He struggled for a moment, trying to get a grip.
“Jack,” she said, when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything. “I need to see you.”
Jack considered. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, that’s going to be a little hard, isn’t it, if I don’t know how to find you. Where are you?”
“Can’t I come there?”
Jack turned away from the screen. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Ms. Farrell. I think this place is possibly being watched.” It was time to put things back on his terms. He turned quickly back to the wall, watching the frown as it vanished from her face. She was still playing at trying to manipulate him, giving him what she thought he wanted to see.
“Who? Who is watching you?”
“That’s not important right now. Let’s just say I need to know where you are. I’ll come to you. We can’t do it any other way.”
There was a quick nervous glance to the side, then the thing with her tongue again. “Can I trust you, Jack?”
Was there someone there with her? The thought made him feel uncomfortable. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned back on the desk. “You hired me, didn’t you?”
“I just need to know that it’s safe. You must understand that.”
“Yeah, I just might at that, but I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Ms. Farrell.”
She frowned, but just as quickly regained her composure, the mask slipping back into place. “Listen, Jack, I know it might seem strange, but I was afraid. I was afraid for my safety, afraid for my life.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, Ms. Farrell, but I’ve got to know I can trust you too. So where are you?”
There was a long pause. “All right,” she said finally with a brief sigh. She pressed her lower lip between her teeth before speaking. “I’m staying at the Barclay Apartments. In Taylor. Do you know them?”
Taylor was far closer to the port end of Yorkstone, far less salubrious than her previous accommodations at the Excelsior. “No, but I can find them. I’ll be there in about an hour. Make sure you’re there this time, if yo
u want my help.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay, what apartment?”
“Fifteen.”
He nodded and cut the connection.
He stayed where he was, leaning back on the desk for a couple of minutes while he thought about what he was going to say to her, how much of his dealings with Landerman he wanted to reveal. He pushed himself off the desk, headed for the living room, and grabbed his coat. Billie was there.
“I’m going out,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you?”
She just shrugged.
“Well, we might just get a few answers this time. You got anything more for me?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay, well, keep at it. I’ll be back in a while. And keep an eye out for that guy, Larkin. I don’t want him hanging around. Call me if he shows up. I don’t think he got the message last time.”
The apartment block was a simple affair. Jack stood out on the street trying to feel it before entering. He scanned the street in both directions, but there was nothing to pluck at his internal alarms. He shook his head. This case was weird. He hoped to hell he really wasn’t losing his abilities. Sure, he was still dreaming, but there was still something missing. Who was to say his internal alarms were even working? Perhaps what he was going through was just a temporary lapse, but it was having a healthy attempt at unsettling him all the same.
“Come on, Stein,” he muttered to himself. “This is simple.”
Shrugging his coat around his shoulders, he entered the building. There was no lock on the outer door. There was no need for entry systems in Yorkstone, no matter where you were. He located the elevator and pressed for the first floor. Apartment 15 was at the street end of the building. Again he paused outside the door, trying to get some sense of what awaited him inside. Nothing. He knocked.
Bridgett Farrell—he still couldn’t think of her as Danuta Galvin—peered out of a slim crack and then stepped back to let him in. He scanned the room as soon as he was inside. Simple but adequate furnishing. A couple of windows looked out over the street. He stepped over toward them and looked out. A few pedestrians walked past, but that was about it. A city transport whirred by. Jack turned back to look at her, gesturing at the window.
“Curtain,” she said, and the windows went half dark.
She stepped across to him and touched his arm. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’ve been so scared.”
Jack looked down at her face. She was looking up at him with those big, wide blue eyes, but he wasn’t buying any of it. He couldn’t afford to. He stepped back, biting his lip.
“You’d better start talking, Ms. Farrell, or is that what I should call you? Maybe I should call you something else.”
She turned away from him. “Jack. I’m sorry. You’re right. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
“Damned right you haven’t.” Jack crossed to a chair and sat, crossing his legs. “Right now would be a good time to start. If we’re going to keep working together, then you’d better start telling me the truth.”
She turned back to face him and stood beside another chair, resting one hand on its back. As she started speaking, she ran her palm gently back and forth across the top of the chair. “What can I say? Things have changed. I told you I was afraid. Well, I am. Very afraid.”
“Why don’t you sit down, cut the crap, and tell me what’s going on. You want me to help you, you’re going to have to do better than this.”
She pressed her lips together, nodded, and sat primly on the edge of the seat. She folded her hands in her lap. No gloves this time. Jack tore his gaze away from the hands and looked back to her face.
“I’m afraid something terrible has happened to Carl and I’m afraid the same thing is going to happen to me.”
“And what makes you think that? Perhaps it’s because Christian Landerman’s in town. Is that it? Is that why you skipped so quickly?”
Her pale hand drifted up to touch her pale throat and then to rest lightly on her chest as if she was gathering her thoughts. Landerman’s name didn’t seem to have flustered her at all. She was ice cool.
“Yes, you’re right,” she said slowly. “I was working for Landerman. When the artifact went missing, I was afraid of what he might do to me. The only option I had was to stay out of sight and try to get it back again. That’s why I need your help, Jack. Landerman is someone you don’t want to cross.”
“Yeah, well, something has happened to Talbot, but I don’t think Landerman had anything to do with it.”
She stood and turned away so he couldn’t see her face. “What do you mean, something’s happened?”
“Talbot’s dead. Somebody killed him.”
He was waiting for something, some reaction, a slight stiffening of the shoulders, but there was nothing. She wasn’t giving anything away. Perhaps she already knew it; perhaps she didn’t. A moment later, she turned.
“See,” she said. “See what I told you? And I could be next. You have to help me. If we can find the artifact, then I can get it to Landerman and it will be over.”
“Will it?” said Jack carefully.
She slowly sat again. “Yes, I think so.”
It was Jack’s turn to stand. He started pacing as he thought. “Who else could be involved in this, Ms. Farrell? It just doesn’t make sense that Landerman would have Talbot killed. Otherwise he’d be gone, the artifact with him. But Landerman’s here. That means he hasn’t gotten what he came for, unless the artifact’s not the only thing.” He looked at her pointedly. She was watching him as he paced, but the comment didn’t draw any reaction either.
“Come on. There has to be something you’re not telling me. Who else is involved?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
“Dammit,” he cursed. “How long have you been working for Landerman?”
“About a year and a half.”
“Well, you have to know something about his operation. This politician, this philanthropist. What did you do for him, Ms. Galvin? Give me something about him.”
Even the use of her real name didn’t faze her. Maybe she hadn’t noticed but he doubted that. “We, Carl and myself, we used to locate and acquire things for him. He’s a collector.”
“Acquiring things. Yeah, I can understand that about Talbot. That’s his business, but why you?”
“Sometimes the acquisition requires skills that Carl did not have.”
Jack stopped his pacing. “Like what?”
“I don’t need to go into that, Mr. Stein. Let’s just say we worked best as a team.”
“Hmmm. It’s a funny sort of team if he goes off without you, taking the object you’re meant to get together.”
She remained silent.
Jack slowly shook his head. “All right. I’m not entirely happy, but I’ll help you.”
“You can be sure I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jack nodded. “Oh, you can be sure of that. I’ve got something I want to check first, and when I’ve done that, I’ll be back. Next time I come, I expect you to be straight with me. I’m really not happy yet. Know that.”
“I can help to make you happy, Jack. I’m sure I can. You just tell me what you want.” She ran the tip of her finger over her lower lip, let her fingers trail over her chin and down her neck, then slowly looked up at him. Despite himself, his breath caught.
“Damn, you really are a piece of work,” said Jack, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’ll be in touch. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll let myself out.”
There was an idea forming in the back of his head as he headed for the shuttle stop. What he’d told her had been true. He did want to check something out. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a clue to Talbot and who had killed him, something the police might have missed. He needed to get back to the apartment, check whether Billie had come up with anything else he could use
, and then check with Morrish. Time to call in another favor. If his guts were telling him anything, he thought he might be able to pay that favor back in more ways than one. Meanwhile, he was still annoyed that he’d had nothing to work with right from the start. Something about this case had to start falling into place soon. He didn’t know quite how far his relationship with Morrish would stretch, but he was about to find out.
Billie was waiting for him when he got back.
“I found something, Jack.” She was clearly pleased with herself.
“Yeah, and I have some stuff to tell you. But you first,” he aid.
She didn’t even bother calling up the wallscreen. “That thing on Utrecht, the Progress Party . . .”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“A couple of articles were talking about links to something else called the Sons of Utrecht.”
“Huh. And what’s that?”
“It’s an extremist group. Anyway, that’s what the articles called them. They’re talking about wiping out the underclasses. Getting rid of any social welfare. They believe that for humanity to progress, they have to get rid of anything that holds it back. They say things in society that are bad for progress will simply self-destruct if they let them.”
Jack got rid of his coat and sat, waiting for her to continue. “Is there more?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “It started on Utrecht about twenty years ago. There have always been links to Utrecht government, but everyone always denied it. Some of the stuff talked about closed back rooms full of rich old men and women trying to change the way the world worked. One of the pieces said something about attempts to ban the group. Christian Landerman’s name was there a few times. They were politics newsfeeds, but there has to be something there, doesn’t there? It’s all a couple of years old now. I tried to find anything else, but there was nothing after that. It all went quiet.”
Jack considered. Things like this movement had existed throughout history, but what was it about Utrecht in particular? What was it about any place that fostered such a movement?
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