“My mother said something about tags?”
He pushed up his sleeve, revealing a black wristband. “That’s attached and activated at the start of the shift, and can only be removed by the same machine. We can force it off but then alarms fire up all over the residence. While we’re wearing them, they track our movements throughout the entire estate.”
“Could you show me that for the night in question?”
As well as a sequential log showing the guards moving past checkpoints, a graphical display showed their path on a map. “As you can see, none of them entered the building after six, per Governor Ythen’s orders. Your mother says she put the item in her desk at half six.”
“And no one came in or out?”
“Not a soul. There were no functions that night, the day staff had gone, and residential staff don’t have access to the office.”
“There’s no alarm if the office door is opened?”
“There is if it’s forced. Same for all the doors and windows. If it was opened, it was with a key.”
“Hmmm.” A guard could come and go without setting off the alarms, but their movements would show up on the log. “Access to the key store is controlled, of course.”
“Yes it is.” He walked me over to the small room to the side of his office. “It can only be opened with a guard’s key card. During the day, there’s always someone around to issue cards, passes and replacements, that kind of thing, but at night, it’s not opened except in an emergency. Never been cause for that in the entire time I’ve worked here.”
He was telling the truth, but then I’d never have doubted that. “I’d like to speak to the officers on duty that night at some point. Can that be arranged?”
“Certainly. Do you want their names?”
I noted the names of the eight guards on roster, and quizzed Damen about their reliability, honesty and so on. He had not a bad word to say about any of them, though he did say the night chief knew them somewhat better. “I’ll make an appointment for you to meet him and talk to the guards themselves. He’s never complained to me about them though. All our employees go through rigorous checking.”
“I’m sure they do. I really appreciate your cooperation. I’ll make sure to mention that to my father.”
He smiled. “Well, that kind of recommendation never hurts, does it? How do you find Civvy Street? This private detective lark suit you?”
“On and off. Not like the real thing, is it?”
His smile drooped. “No, it’s not. Ah well. We could be worse off, you and I.”
“That we could. Good day, lieutenant, and thank you.”
I scratched my head as I stood by my auto, looking back at the residence, trying to think like a thief. How would I get in and circumvent that impressive security system?
No idea. I had until Kirin came back to me with his test results before I needed to find an answer. In the meantime, I needed to investigate Timin Veringe, and I also had a business to run. My parents weren’t my only clients.
~~~~~~~~
My too infrequent lunches with Shardul followed an unvarying pattern. I drove to his office, he made me wait until precisely the time arranged, and then we walked together to a little diner owned by one of his endless supply of cousins. There he would test my nerve by ordering entirely in Nihani, and daring me to balk at what turned up. I hadn’t failed that test yet, mainly because ten years in the police force had taught me to eat just about anything, in any place, at any time. It was a wonder my stomach hadn’t rotted out from all the lousy meals I’d consumed on the beat.
Another thing that never changed was that he insisted on eating at least half a plate of food before talking. Early in his career, he’d skipped so many meals trying to do too much, he’d made himself seriously ill. So now he made time to eat, and the only way he could ensure he consumed enough food was not to talk. Today, I knew what I had to tell him would rob him of his appetite. I was in no hurry to do that.
He finished his food, picked up his chai cup, and looked me in the eyes. “This is the first time in our acquaintance you’ve been silent for more than twenty consecutive minutes. Ergo, you have something unpleasant to impart. Would you like to do so before I die of curiosity?”
“My mother’s trading indigenous artefacts off world. One of them was stolen in transit—that’s why they need my help.”
He hissed in a breath, his anger striking that sensitive bit of my brain over my right eyebrow with Shardul’s name on it. “By the Spirit. How dare she? And you didn’t know?”
“If I did, do you think I’d have stayed silent? I’m as angry as you are.”
“Oh, I doubt it.”
“No, really. I’m pissed as hell with both of them. Mum doesn’t need the money. This is just a rich woman’s hobby. The seller is Timin Veringe.”
Shardul’s lip curled. “That reptile.”
“You know him?”
“Obviously.”
I waited but he said nothing more. “Well?”
“Well what? You don’t seriously expect me to help you, do you? You’re on your own, Ythen.”
“Don’t get mad, Shardul. I can’t walk away from my own damn mother.”
“She’s not my mother. Your turn for the bill. Don’t get up.” He stood, nodded to the waiter, and walked out.
Damn it. But then I remembered I had a question I needed Shardul to answer. I shoved my paycard at the waiter. “Be back in a couple of minutes to settle,” I said, and dashed out after my irritated friend.
He’d made some distance with those long legs, and was not pleased to have me grab his arm. “I though I made my feelings clear, Ythen.”
“You did, and I’m sorry, but there’s one thing I need to know. This bracelet, the one that was stolen—it’s by a master craftsman called ‘Jasraj’.”
Shardul stopped and glared at me. “Your mother is selling that kind of material? She should be shot—and I’d provide the gun!”
“Please...don’t make me defend the indefensible. One question. Would any Nihan go so far as to steal something like that back, if they knew it was going off world?”
He shook off my hand, his blue eyes icy with rage and disdain. “No. No udawatha, at least. The Seeker teaches that to cling too tightly to material possessions breeds greed and jealousy. A concept your people have exploited quite nicely.”
“They wouldn’t be tempted?”
“Do you think I speak for all my people? If you want to know, conduct a survey. Good day, Ythen.”
“I’m sorry, Shardul.”
He paused. “You may be. But I cannot eat your sorrow.” He walked off.
The udawathei considered regret without reparation a hollow, shameful thing, almost as bad as the original offence. A truly sorrowful man did his best to make amends. But in this case, how could I do that? Let my mother suffer the consequences of her own greed? The bracelet would still be gone, and Veringe still trading.
Unless I could prove he was behind the theft. Stop him, and that was one exploiter down. Little enough, but police pursued criminals even knowing there were plenty more to take their place. If I could take Veringe down, then I had to.
My phone went while I was still raw from Shardul’s rejection. “Yes?” I snapped.
“Sainted reason, Javen, if you answer your phone like that, you’ll lose clients.”
“Sorry, Kirin. What’s up?”
“Swing past the lab. I’ve got good news for you on those containers.”
“I could do with some. See you soon.”
Kirin had done fast work. I hoped he hadn’t put anything aside to look after this case. My parents didn’t deserve being given priority.
I told him that when I saw him, and he gave me a look. “Javen, they don’t. You do. Come over to Jyoti’s desk.”
She smiled. “Good afternoon, Javen. Are you well?”
“Very. You and Chandana?”
She blushed at her girlfriend’s name. “We’re fine.”
&nb
sp; “So, what have you got for me?”
“The strong box is impregnable,” Kirin said. “The code’s uncrackable, and you only get three tries. After that, nothing short of cutting equipment will open it.”
“So the box wasn’t opened before arrival. The package?”
“Jyoti?”
“The plastic bag is very well-designed. Almost any attempt to open it results in visible and irreparable damage.”
“But....”
“But, look.” She picked up one of the company’s packets. “This is a new one—we obtained more supplies this morning for testing, in exchange for us informing TransPlanet of our results.”
“Didn’t think you’d mind,” Kirin murmured.
“Of course not. Show me what you found?”
She picked up a slim piece of equipment. “This is a laser knife, used in surgery. The cuts it makes are very precise and narrow.” She used the knife to slice the bottom of the bag. “The critical factor is speed. The cut has to be annealed within thirty seconds.” She turned the knife over. “There is a cautery function on this model, which also works very finely. Watch.”
She ran the knife over the cut, keeping the two edges carefully aligned. “Now we wait...and there. Look.”
“It’s invisible!”
“Not quite. Look closely,” Kirin said.
I picked up the packet and yes, the line could be seen, just. But in the position of the cut, and against white plastic.... “No one would notice unless they were looking.”
“Exactly. And who would, if you didn’t suspect tampering. So that’s your ‘how’.”
“Excellent work, both of you. Jyoti, it’s a damn good thing you use your powers for good, not evil.” She grinned. “Now I know how, I think I know who.”
“Want to share?” Kirin asked.
“Not yet. I can’t. But thank you. Send me the invoice—and no discounts, okay? Dad can afford it.”
“As you wish. Still on for lunch?”
“Sure. You’ll report to TransPlanet?”
“Yes, and I’ll prepare a formal report for you as well. I thought you’d want to see this as soon as possible.”
“I did. Thank you.”
So if someone got into the residence, they could have abstracted the bracelet without detection. But that someone had to know where the bracelet was, and in what container. The security guards had to be involved. But how? And more to the point, why?
The whole team was back in the office, so I picked their highly trained minds. “Why would someone steal back something he’d just been paid a good deal of money for?”
“To resell,” Madan said.
“Yes, but the potential market here is small. The risk of the purchaser finding out is high.”
“The second purchaser offered a lot more money and the thief thought it was worth it,” Vik suggested.
“Yes, possibly. Right, that’s your next job. Vik, I want you to find out all you can about an indigenous craftsman called Jasraj, from early first colonial period. I want to know what his stuff is worth, how much of it there is, and particularly, the history and value of this piece.” On my reader I showed him the image of the bracelet my mother had taken, then shot it off to his account. “Prachi, I want everything on Timin Veringe. Criminal history, if any, family, business, everything. Who he’s sleeping with, who hates him, who he hangs around with.”
“Yes, boss,” they chorused.
“Veringe,” Madan said slowly. “I know that name.”
“The artist. Society darling. And thief, if I’m right.”
“So who else does he sell to?”
“That’s what I need to find out.” But the man who could tell me was furious with me right now.
With Shardul, subtlety was a waste of time—he saw it as deceit, and he despised dishonesty. So I sent him a straightforward message. “I think Timin Veringe is stealing stuff he’s sold back from clients. I want to take him down. I need your help. Who does he sell to?”
An hour later, I had his answer. “You only want to help your mother.”
I wrote, “I want to stop trade. Stop her buying, stop him selling. What else can we do?”
“Demand all trading is licensed, and ask govt to buy back artefacts sold. Protect them as cultural heritage for whole country.”
“I’m no politician. Just a cop. I catch the bad guys, you work on govt. I’ll help you. Help me?”
My phone went. “Javen Ythen.”
“Javen, you have no right to ask this.”
“Yes, I do, Shardul, because it’s your heritage, and mine, even if you don’t like to admit that. The Kelons are never going to act.”
“How sure are you that Veringe’s behind it?”
“Aside from my mother, he’s the only one who could know what was going to be in that parcel at that time. He even engineered a delay ensuring the bracelet would be in the residence overnight. It’s either him or a confederate. So if he stole it back, then he’s probably got a buyer. Who does he deal with?”
“Can’t you work it out for yourself? People like your mother. Society women. They just love all that ethnic craftwork, don’t you know.”
“So mostly they’re not selling off world?”
“Not to my knowledge. I’m not happy at this development.”
“I got that, okay? Thanks for the tip. I’ll let you know how I get on.”
“Take out Veringe, and another replaces him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Shardul, trust me. I think I’ve proved you can.”
A long pause, and then a sigh. “Yes, you have. I have to go.”
“Thanks for calling.”
He closed the call. I tapped the desk, thinking. Society women, I knew nothing about. But I happened to be related to an expert. I made a call.
“Mum, if you’d bought that bracelet for yourself, what would you do with it?”
“What an odd question, Javen. I’d wear it, of course.”
“But where?”
“The occasion? If I’d spent that kind of money on myself—or your father had—I’d want to show it off. It was a very beautiful piece.”
“And can you think of an occasion soon where you’d show it off?”
“Of course. The Governor’s Ball this weekend. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. I sent you an invitation, even though I knew you’d never come.”
I grinned at Prachi, watching me. “Mum, could you wangle some extra invitations for me?”
“What are you up to, dear?”
“Investigating, Mum. I’ll need another four.”
“I’ll need names for security.”
“You’ll have them by the end of the day.”
I closed the connection. “Prachi, my dear, would you like to go to a ball?”
~~~~~~~~
I’d set my assistants a fairly challenging task, but they were more than up to it. Hard to decide which of them was better at research. Vik, maybe, by a hair, but both had made themselves indispensable in the six months they’d worked for me. By the next day, they had reports for me.
“The interesting thing about that picture of the bracelet is that it’s inside out,” Vik said when I called them together to tell me what they’d found.
“What? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Its design allows it to be worn both ways, but the usual way is with the red enamel facing outwards, not the blue the way your mother has it. It’s a well-documented piece, made as a wedding gift by Jasraj for his wife. There are portraits of people wearing it. A real treasure. Shame it’s been lost.”
“Agreed. What’s it worth?”
“Here? Based on other pieces of his that have been sold, easily as much as four thousand dolar. But it’s probably worth more because it’s unique. Jasraj never made another piece like it.”
Mum had paid five and a half, and sold it for eight. Had Veringe found someone to pay even more? Very likely. “Good work. Prachi, tell me about friend Veringe.”
“He migrated
from Kelon three years ago, and set up here in Hegal. He began collecting artefacts almost immediately, with a small display at his studio. His work has become fashionable, but the volume of sales wouldn’t account for the purchase of a house, studio and auto.”
“He’s making more money on artefacts?”
“And other things perhaps. He was charged with illegal drug trading on Kelon, but the charge failed for lack of evidence. He emigrated not long after.”
“If he’s acquiring certain items by dodgy methods, he could be acquiring other things. Much more lucrative to deal drugs without excise duties and licenses. Anything in the local police records about that?”
“Nothing. Officially, he’s clean.”
Shardul had called him a reptile. But Shardul hadn’t elaborated. I wish he had.
“Okay. So the worst we know of him officially is that he varies his sources of income. Does he declare all of it? Tax records?”
“For the last three years, he’s made an annual net income of approximately twenty thousand dolar. The public record doesn’t show how that was composed.”
“See if you can find other artists to compare him with, Prachi, but I doubt we’ll prove much this way. He’s keeping himself respectable for his clients. If we can prove he’s a thief, we’ll hit both his income streams.”
“You’re not just trying to retrieve the bracelet, boss?” Vik asked.
“If Veringe’s behind this, I want him out of business. I definitely want him out of the artefacts trade. So the next step is find out what happened to the bracelet, and hope that gives us the connection to Veringe.”
Madan had been listening from his desk, working on his cases. He decided to contribute his own idea. “What if he sent it off world himself?”
“Shhh,” I said. “Don’t invite bad luck.”
“Says the Scientific Rationalist.”
Vik and Prachi grinned at Madan poking the only atheist in the office. “Bad luck exists,” I said primly. “I just don’t believe it’s caused by supernatural forces.”
“So how can you invite it?”
“Don’t you guys have work to do? Shoo, I’m busy.”
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