Babylon 5 02 - Accusations (Tilton, Lois)

by Accusations (Tilton, Lois)

  "More often than you might think," Ryerson said, nodding. "People don't like to think how the recycling system really works. Stuff goes in here and comes out the other end there. All automatic, untouched by human hands, unseen by human eyes. Nice and clean, nice and sanitary.

  "And that's so, just as long as people follow the recycling regs like they're told. But they don't, see. They never do. Blockages happen all the time. We got to know where the problem is, where to shut the system down. And nine times out of ten, it's people not following the rules, throwing stuff in where it doesn't belong, throwing in stuff that has no business in the system. You wouldn't believe some of what we've dragged out of those pipes. Out of the alien sectors, especially. Sometimes I wonder, I really do."

  "Like a human body? Blocking the pipes?"

  "No, a body isn't going to make that much trouble. Not if you cut it up right so it fits. Human body's one hundred percent organic matter, system ought to handle it just fine. No, what made that stoppage was about sixty pounds of silicon solar sheets that some dipwit stuffed into the organic disposal system and didn't put through the shredder, like the regs say. Happens all the time, though. You can't teach some people. Then we gotta go in there, open up the lines, clear it out. Your foot here just got caught up in it."

  "But don't you have scanners? Wouldn't they spot something like body parts in the system?"

  "Hell, yes, there's scanners! But they're mostly used to check for trouble, for blockage. Or, say, somebody flushes a data crystal with all the station's defense codes in itwe could scan for it. But do you know how many kilometers of line we've got in this whole system? You know what it would take to scan and monitor every piece of waste that comes through, every second of every day? Oh, sure, it could be done, but you know what it would cost? You imagine Earth Central springing for the cost?"

  "All right! So you're saying you can stuff a human body down the recycler and the monitors won't pick it up?"

  "Toss it down whole and they will, sure they will. Whole body'll block up a pipe somewheres. But you chop it up into small enough pieces, it'll go through. System's designed so stuff will go through, if people just follow the regs. Now, I do remember one time, on Luna Colony, woman killed her husband and his girlfriend, caught them together, you know? Chopped them up with the kitchen knives and stuffed them into the system. Husband's head, though, got stuck in the line, and they pulled it out, traced it to her. But that must have been a small line. Or the guy had a big head" Ryerson stopped as his link went off. "Yeah?"

  "Boss, how soon can we get that line moving again? We're getting backup in the shunt from section Brown 62."

  Ryerson turned to Garibaldi. "Well?"

  "You're sure you've checked? There are no more body parts in there?"

  "Not in the main line. Not upstream of that stoppage. Downstream, now, things get a little harder to sort out. Past the digestion vat there. If your foot had made it past that junction"

  "I get the picture," Garibaldi said quickly. "So I guess there's nothing more we can do here."

  His assistant, Torres, looked vastly relieved to hear him say that. Together, they left the recycling facility. Garibaldi rubbed his forehead, where his hairline had lately retreated. "Just when you think you know everything, seen it all, something like this comes along."

  "It makes you wonder, doesn't it, how many more bodies get tossed in there and never recovered," Torres remarked.

  "Yeah, it does," Garibaldi said thoughtfully.

  They went up the lift tube to Medlab, where Dr.

  Franklin told them to wait, he was just finishing up his analysis of the remains. "If this keeps up," Franklin said, finally coming into the office, "security's going to have to hire its own forensic pathologist. Not that this consulting sideline isn't interesting, of course, but I do have my own research, and a patient or two ..."

  "All right," said Garibaldi, "just tell me what you found."

  "It's human, that's the first thing. Human and male. And I got a reasonably decent plantar print, considering the condition of the specimen."

  "DNA?"

  "Still analyzing."

  "Cause of death?"

  "Unknown."

  "What about time of death, that kind of thing?"

  Franklin shook his head. "Not with this one, Garibaldi. Cell structure shows that the tissue was frozen first before it went into the system. No telling for how long. Maybe as much as a year."

  "Anything else?"

  Franklin nodded. "They used a laser to sever the foot. You can see clearly where the tissue was seared."

  "So. First freeze the body, then cut it up. Not bad, not much mess that way. You can keep the pieces on ice as long as you want, dispose of them one by one through the recycling system, one piece here, another piece there ... This is just great!"

  "It could be a serial killer!" Torres exclaimed with some enthusiasm.

  "Just what we need around here," said Garibaldi with less. "A serial killer, a professional assassincivilian or military, alien or human, just take your pick."

  Franklin gave them a quizzical look. "Isn't that a lot to assume, just from one body?"

  The computer interrupted. "DNA analysis of the specimen is complete."

  Garibaldi asked quickly, "Computer, can you identity the specimen?"

  "Accessing." Everyone in the room waited.

  Simultaneously. "What?"

  Obediently, the computer responded: "DNA pattern is identified as belonging to Fengshi Yang. Arrived on Babylon 5 on 04/18/59, departed 04/20/59."

  Torres was the one who asked the obvious question: "He left without his foot?"

  CHAPTER 12

  Garibaldi retreated to his own console in Security Central to continue to probe the mystery of Fengshi Yang. Unless there were two Yangs (an identical twin?) or the man, as Torres suggested, had left the station with only one foot, then something was seriously wrong.

  It turned out to be easy enough to find out, when Garibaldi checked the passenger lists of the ships arriving and departing the station on the dates in question. Yang had in fact arrived on Babylon 5 five days ago, on the eighteenth. The very day, as Garibaldi wasn't likely to forget, when J. D. Ortega was killed. But although the station registry had him leaving on the Asimov two days later, there was no Fengshi Yang listed in the Asimov's own passenger list when it departed on the twentieth. At the very least, there was a discrepancy in the records.

  Now, the head of Babylon 5's security section didn't like discrepancies in his records on general principles. He didn't like the idea of people being on the station when they weren't supposed to be, when they weren't in the registry at all or when the registry said they'd left three days ago. And he most especially didn't like it when the subject of the discrepancy was chopped up in little bits and tossed into the station's recycling system. Such circumstances tended to make him suspicious. By the time Yang was officially leaving Babylon 5, Garibaldi was willing to bet, he was probably already dead, frozen, and on his way to being reduced down to his basic chemical elements.

  But none of that was what had captured Garibaldi's attention. What had jumped out at him from the passenger list was Yang's port of departure: Mars.

  Garibaldi believed in coincidence about as much as he believed in the tooth fairy. Two men murdered, both of them from Mars. Except that according to Yang's file, he wasn't from Mars. He was an import-export rep for a clothing firm on Earth. All right, but at least he'd been on Mars, right before he came to Babylon 5.

  Two murdered men, both from Mars, both with discrepancies in their files in the station registry. Coincidence? Garibaldi snorted. All right, first assumption: they were both killed by the same agency. But maybe not. Disposition of the bodies was different. Ortega's was hidden almost in the open. Unless, Garibaldi wondered, the killers hadn't meant to leave it there. Did they mean to come back for the body later? To freeze it and send it down the recycling system the way they'd done Yang's?

  Maybe that was assuming
too much. What else? He thought a moment, then tapped his link. "Doc? This is Garibaldi. I've got one more question for you on this murder business. Yang."

  "Yes?"

  "When you said you couldn't determine the cause of death, did you try that test you told me about beforefor that poison, chloro-quasi-dia-whatever?"

  "Dianimidine. I tried it, yes, but with the condition of the tissue, I couldn't get a reading."

  "So it could have been that same stuff as you found ... in another case we had on the station once." He was deliberately not referring to Ortega's murder and hoped Franklin would pick up the hint.

  "That's right, it could have been. But there's just no way to tell, one way or the other. Not unless you find some other part of him that's better preserved."

  "Not much chance of that, according to Ryerson. Thanks, Doc."

  "Anything else?"

  "No. Not right now."

  Garibaldi thought for a moment, then called in Ensign Torres. She was young, bright, very enthusiastic, although her enthusiasm did have its limits when it came to the recycling system. Certainly she was ready for more independent responsibility.

  "Chief?"

  "Torres, it looks like the records on our Mr. Yang have gotten mixed up."

  "That's for sure. You know, actually, I was wondering if this case might be related to that other onethe other murder? You know, neither of them in the station registry correctly?"

  Maybe even too bright, Garibaldi thought. Very deliberately, he said, "I really don't think there's any grounds for supposing any similarity between the two cases, Torres. After all, if there were, it might involve matters we're not authorized to investigate."

  Her expression sobered. "Yes, Chief, you're quite right. Now that I think about it, I don't see any similarity between the two cases at all."

  "Well then, since that's so, how would you like to do some digging into the Yang case?"

  Now her face brightened again. "Yes, Chief!"

  "Good. Now, here's Yang's file. As you can see, there's not too much to go on. But he was in the clothing business, so that might be a good place to start. Check out the merchants on the station, find out who he might have been dealing with, who his associates were, if he had any enemies. Was he carrying valuables? You know what kind of questions to ask."

  "I'll get on it right away. And thanks, Chief!"

  "Fine. I'll be looking forward to your report."

  Torres left the security office, full of proud enthusiasm. Garibaldi told himself he ought to be ashamed of himself, pulling a trick like that on a nice bright kid like Torres. But the experience in investigation certainly wouldn't hurt her, and, who knows, she might even turn up something useful.

  And while she was looking into thatGaribaldi turned back to his own screen where Yang's official file was displayed, next to the passenger list from the Asimov. One entry, one word that could be the key to it all: Mars.

  This time he wasn't just fishing ... or baiting traps or whatever. This time he meant business. He had questions and he by damn wanted answers.

  He found Nick Patinos in the Lo-G Gym, doing tae kwon do exercises with a tall dark alien woman who danced and drifted with slow-motion grace as she parried and returned the strikes of Nick's wooden staff. Their steps and leaps in the low gravity were deliberately slow, controlled. Every movement seemed elongated. Nick was having a hard time keeping up with his opponent, but Garibaldi, watching, knew enough about martial arts to be able to see that his old friend had gotten a lot better since the last time the two of them had sparred. He doubted that he could beat Nick now and regretted that a thousand thingspressures of the jobhad kept him from staying in shape the way he knew he should have. Not, of course, that he'd call himself out of shape, not exactly . . .

  The match ended, and Nick bowed to his partner, then propelled himself with a long, slow roll in Garibaldi's direction, landing about two meters in front of him.

  "Mike." He held out the staff. "Ready to try a round or two?"

  Garibaldi shook his head. "Not this time. I'm here on business, Nick."

  Nick turned away as abruptly as possible in the low gravity. "Look, Mike, I thought I made myself clear, before. I'm not talking. Not now. Not about this."

  "Not about what?'" Garibaldi struggled to lower his voice as he saw people in the gym turning their heads in their direction. "Dammit, what's going on around here that nobody will talk about?"

  Nick led him away, into the locker room where the sound of showers and blowers would cover their voices. "I'll tell you, Mike, I don't know what's going on. All I know isI don't want to know. It's safer that way. What I don't know, no one can pry out of me."

  "What are you talking about? I'm the Chief of Security on this station!"

  "Yeah, but those guys from Earth Central aren't working for you on this, are they? They're working for somebody a whole lot higher up. They've been all over the station, dragging people in for questioningpeople who've done nothing. They don't say why, they don't say what they're looking for. I don't want these guys picking me up and reaming out my brain for something I don't know anything about."

  "What are you talking about? Reaming out your brain?"

  Nick looked uncertain. "That's what I've heard."

  "You mean they've got a telepath working for them? But there's only one telepath on this station." He hesitated. Was he sure about that?

  "Look, Mike, I don't care how many telepaths they've got." He paused, looked around, but the locker room was empty at the moment. "You want to know what's going on? All right, I'll tell you what it's like. You weren't on Mars last year, were you? During the uprising? You were safe on this station."

  "So were you."

  "Yeah, but I've got a brother and sister at home. What they told meit was bad there, Mike. Troops all over the place, making arrests everywhere, not asking questions before they did, either. My sister's two kids were in schoolOlympus University. There were demonstrations. Troops moved in, closed the place down, detained everyone they saw. They held my sister's kids for three months. No charges, they didn't have anything against them, only they were in the wrong place when trouble broke out. But that was enough to make them 'suspected terrorists.'

  "Now do you hear what I'm saying? I know those kids, I halfway raised them, after their own dad died in the mining accident. So they might have joined a peaceful demonstration, but there's no way they would have joined Spear of Ares, or any of those Free Mars groups. But did that matter to Earthforce? No, they held them for three months.

  "And now you've got these guys on this station, hauling people in for interrogation for no other reason except they come from Mars, talking about 'suspected terrorists.' You want to know what's going on, that's what's going on, and, yeah, it's got people scared.

  "And I'll tell you something else, too. Some of the people they've talked tohaven't come back."

  "What are you saying?"

  "Just that. A friend of mine had a date for dinner last nightshe's a clerk in one of the survey offices. She told him she wasn't sure if she could make it, she was supposed to go see this Earthforce officer to answer some questions, she didn't know about what. Well, she never showed up for dinner, never answered her calls. He checks, she's been shipped back to Earth. Shipped back this morning. No reason."

  Garibaldi was appalled. Not that it was going onhe was no innocent. It was Wallace, of course it was. But why didn't he know about this? Why hadn't anyone told him?

  Of course, he'd been trying to help Ivanova, and then this Yang murder coming up. Still . . .

  "Nick, I swear, I didn't know! I'll look into this for you, I promise. Your friend, what's his name?"

  "Nope."

  "Dammit! Nick!"

  "Hey, I don't turn in my friends, Mike. I never have. I've maybe set you straight on a couple things before, but that's it."

  "So your friend might be involved in this?"

  "I didn't say that. I don't know. All I know is, he doesn't want his name ment
ioned to anyone from Earthforce Security."

  "All right," Garibaldi sighed, "let's start over. Look, the guy I'm looking for now has no connection to ... this other thing. Like you said, I'm off that case. This is a completely separate investigation." At least, officially it was.

  Nick frowned, waited. Garibaldi took out a projector and clicked on the holographic image of Fengshi Yang as taken from his official file. It hovered in the space between them like a ghost. "Do you know this guy? Have you ever seen him?"

  Nick shook his head. "Seen him where?"

  "Here on the station. Or maybe on Mars."

  "Sorry. Can't say I have. Why? Who is he?"

  "Who was he, is more like it. His body turned up early today."

  "You mean he was killed?"

  "Looks like it, yeah. We're trying to trace down his movements, who he might have seen, you know."

  "Well, why come to me?"

  "He might have come from Mars. At least, his last port of departure was Mars."

  Nick exploded. "You're telling me this doesn't have anything to do with that other thing? You expect me to believe that? 'A completely separate investigation'? C'mon, Mike! A guy gets killed, and the only lead you've got is that he might have come from Mars? What, was he a suspected terrorist, too? Who's next?"

  "I don't know! Why do you think I'm trying to find out? If the killings are connected, I want to know, too. But I've got nothing to go on! I don't even know if his name's really Yang. Somebody's messed with his file in the station registry. Only thing I've found out so far is that he came here from Mars. So I go with what I've got. And if this case turns out to be connected to the first one, and this Earthforce guy Wallace finds out, the guy who's been hauling in all your friends for questioning, then he takes over and leaves me nowhere."

  Nick shook his head. "Sorry. I really can't help." He turned to leave.

  Garibaldi tried once again. "Urn, I don't suppose this friend of yours, this guy you were talking about, might know who Yang was?"

  "I'll ask him, all right? I'll ask around. That's as much as I can do, Mike. Even for you."

  "Thanks," Garibaldi said. Nick pushed his way through the door and was gone. A couple of men came into the showers, gave Garibaldi a questioning look. He put away the projector with Yang's holo image.