The Blue-Haired Bombshell

by John Zakour

  ‘‘That had to be a hard sell,’’ I said. ‘‘What were their views on Moon freedom?’’

  ‘‘It’s the one thing they almost agreed on. Tree always voted against the Moon’s freedom. Sexy had voted once against and once for freedom.’’

  ‘‘And Weathers?’’

  ‘‘He hasn’t had an actual vote yet, but his late wife was always for a free Moon and he hasn’t done anything to go against his late wife’s views,’’ HARV said.

  ‘‘Until now,’’ a voice said from across the room.

  I spun toward the voice. My gun was already in my hand by the time I was facing the body associated with the voice. It was Elena.

  ‘‘How’d you get in here?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Like your cousin said, I am class 1 level 8. There is very little I can’t do,’’ she said gliding toward me.

  ‘‘Yeah, well, I’ve got a front door that’s great for knocking on.’’

  She rolled her eyes. (I get that a lot.) ‘‘Put the gun down,’’ she ordered. ‘‘If I wanted you dead, you would be . . .’’

  I lowered my gun. I had no choice.

  Elena walked forward and sat down on the couch next to me. She was still wearing the purple outfit from earlier in the day, and this time I noticed the ensemble was complete with purple heels. Not many women could have pulled of the look; she did it with ease.

  ‘‘Tree is an old fart, totally against Moon freedom,’’ she said.

  ‘‘I knew that, but the other two?’’

  ‘‘Weathers hated Boris Sputnik—he knew Sputnik always had a thing for his wife,’’ Elena said. ‘‘Shannon had convinced Sexy to vote for Moon freedom this time, but then Weathers convinced her not to.’’

  I could see Weathers hating Sputnik. I remember Electra mentioning that Sputnik always seemed very friendly with her during her trips to the moon. The question was, how’d Weathers get Sexy to change her mind about her vote?

  ‘‘How’d Weathers get to Sexy?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘He was to marry her,’’ Elena said. ‘‘He convinced her he would dump his current love, and then they would be Earth’s new power couple.’’

  I knew Sexy well; this wasn’t a big surprise. She’d date a talking cucumber if she thought it would brighten her limelight. ‘‘So the three of them would have voted against the Moon’s freedom.’’

  ‘‘That’s what Weathers believed and that’s what Sputnik believed. But truthfully, with Sexy you can never be sure. Shannon was certain she was just using Weathers for the hype. She believes Sexy would eventually vote for freedom no matter what Weathers did,’’ she paused for a moment, to let me catch up. ‘‘Shannon would never ever harm Sexy.’’

  ‘‘That’s what I keep hearing. So you’re saying they were killed by Moon sympathizers?’’

  Elena raised an eyebrow. ‘‘I’m not saying anything, I’m just noting that I am not the only powerful psi on the Moon.’’

  ‘‘How do I know you didn’t kill them all?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Well, for one thing if she were the killer she probably would have killed you by now,’’ HARV said.

  ‘‘I’m not a killer,’’ she paused for a nano. ‘‘I might make you think you’re a plant for the rest of your life, but I wouldn’t kill. I’d even water you on occasion.’’

  Once again, I was being asked to take a beautiful woman at her word. Once again, I believed her. The thing was, just because I believed her didn’t mean others would.

  ‘‘Do you have any proof?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘None that would stand up in the court of law, or even of public opinion.’’

  ‘‘Got any proof that Weathers would have voted against freedom and was trying to get Sexy to do the same?’’

  ‘‘Ask his girlfriend,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Who’s that?’’

  ‘‘BB Star,’’ she said.

  I wasn’t surprised. Weathers certainly liked to run with the big girls.

  Chapter 15

  ‘‘HARV, tell BB I need to talk to her now,’’ I said.

  ‘‘BB is one of the richest women in the world. She runs a huge conglom. Why would she drop everything to talk to you?’’

  ‘‘Because my computer records might become public if she didn’t.’’

  HARV smiled. ‘‘Ah, blackmail. I love it.’’

  Being one of the good guys, I’m not a huge fan of blackmail, though I’d much rather be the blackmailer than the blackmailee. But there are times when you’ve got to play hardball to get the job done.

  BB Star is president and CEO of ExShell, the corporation that sells us the sun. She was also one of my first big clients. Most of the world knows her as an eccentric ex-stripper who married a billionaire and inherited his fortune and company after he died. She’s a recluse who hardly ventures out of her luxury penthouse office.

  What very few people know is that the actual BB Star is happily living under her grandmother’s name in New Florida, while her actual grandmother has been regenerated and is stripping under a different alias in New Vegas. Trust me, this family almost makes the Thompson Quads look functional. The BB who runs the company is actually a superpowered android who contains the actual BB’s memory imprints. It’s a long story but a good one if you have the time. Right now, I didn’t. I needed questions answered before I even asked them.

  BB’s image appeared in my living room. She was as blonde and commanding as ever. ‘‘Zachary, to what do I owe the honor?’’ she asked. She looked around the room. ‘‘Hanging out with Mooners now?’’

  ‘‘She’s a friend,’’ I said.

  BB tilted her head away from the camera, ‘‘I’d be careful with the friends you choose,’’ she muttered.

  ‘‘Speaking of friends, I’d like to talk to you about your friend, BB.’’

  She looked blankly into the camera. ‘‘I have no friends, only acquaintances,’’ she said, bile dripping from her words.

  ‘‘From what I understand Carl Weathers was one of your special acquaintances,’’ I countered.

  Dead silence, telling me I was dead on. Her eyes dropped. ‘‘Carl was a friend. He will be missed,’’ she said.

  The day was getting late. I didn’t have time to dick around the bush. ‘‘Was he going to leave you for Sexy?’’

  ‘‘It was just a ploy for him to get what he wanted,’’ she said. ‘‘After he married Sexy he’d come back to me.’’

  ‘‘So he wanted to be council chairman?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘He wanted to come out from under his dead wife’s shadow,’’ she said. ‘‘What better way than becoming the most popular politician in the world?’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry for your loss,’’ I told her.

  She stared coldly into the camera. ‘‘I’ll get over it,’’ she said. She pushed a button. Her image disappeared.

  ‘‘Hmmm, interesting . . . so we may have something to tie the three politicians together,’’ I said.

  Elena touched me gently on the shoulder. ‘‘Sputnik can’t be trusted,’’ she said. ‘‘Now sleep,’’ she said softly.

  Chapter 16

  I came to maybe fifteen minutes later and Elena was gone. I knew where I had to go. I got up and looked at the clock. It said it was 5 P.M. It was a crazy day and it wasn’t close to being over yet.

  ‘‘HARV, call Carol and tell her I need her to meet me at the New Frisco UltraMax Security Prison,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Ah, why?’’ HARV asked.

  ‘‘I need to talk to Shannon one last time to completely rule her out before I accuse the Head Administrator of the Moon of killing the council members.’’

  HARV nodded. ‘‘Probably wise. But how do you plan on doing it?’’

  ‘‘Cover me with a hologram of Captain Rickey,’’ I said.

  HARV just looked at me, hands on hips. ‘‘That’s illegal you know.’’

  ‘‘I just need to talk to Shannon. I’m not breaking her out.’’

  HARV sighed. �
�‘I’m not going to visit with you when you are in jail,’’ he threatened.

  ‘‘Great. I’ll finally be able to get some peace and quiet.’’

  I headed toward my garage. So as to not raise any suspicions I was going to let HARV hover me onto the barge to the prison.

  ‘‘Uh-oh,’’ HARV said, ‘‘you have a call coming in from Desma.’’

  ‘‘Patch her through in 2-D over my wrist communicator,’’ I said.

  Desma’s face appeared on the screen. She looked different than I had ever seen her, her eyes were half shut and her hair looked like her cats had just finished playing with it.

  ‘‘Is that you, cos?’’ I asked.

  She blinked her eyes a couple of times as if she was using sheer willpower to force them to open wider. She failed. She put her arms down on her desk and dropped her head into them. She looked up.

  ‘‘I think that little bitch Elena put the mind thingy on me . . .’’ she moaned.

  ‘‘The mind thingy?’’

  Desma yawned, but only her mouth moved. It was weird. I had never seen my cousin in such disarray. ‘‘She picked your home address out of my mind, then put me under.’’ She clinched her fist. ‘‘Oh, so much for psi unity . . .’’

  ‘‘She just wanted to warn me about Boris Sputnik,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Well, I need to warn you about her warning you about him . . .’’ Desma said. I could almost see the room spinning around her. ‘‘I need to tell you . . .’’

  She stopped talking and gazed into the screen.

  After a couple of moments of strange silence, I prompted, ‘‘Tell me?’’

  ‘‘Oh, I thought it was your turn to talk. I didn’t want to be rude,’’ Desma said.

  ‘‘Tell me what?’’ I asked.

  She stared up at the ceiling and smiled. ‘‘I have pretty ceilings.’’

  ‘‘Yes, but what about Elena?’’ I asked.

  Desma turned her attention back to me. ‘‘You can’t really trust her. She hates Sputnik.’’ Desma smiled. ‘‘Sput-nik, sput-nik, spuut-niik, that’s a funny word, sput-nick. Must be Greek.’’

  ‘‘It’s Russian,’’ I said.

  Desma looked at me like I was guru on top of the mountain. She smacked herself on top of the head. ‘‘That’s right, Russian! You’re so smart. That’s why she hates him—she believes he betrayed Mother Russia.’’

  Elena wouldn’t be the only Russian to feel that way. Many thought once Sputnik took over the Moon he basically laid down and died and let the Chinese and Americans do most of the work and gather all the glory.

  ‘‘A lot of Russians think Sputnik dropped the ball,’’ I said.

  Desma was now looking at her hand moving up and down. ‘‘Yeah, well, I only know I get weird, freaky, far-out vibes from her . . .’’

  ‘‘I don’t see her as the mass murder type.’’

  Desma smiled at me through the screen. ‘‘Cos, she’s a beautiful woman. Even if she wasn’t an ultra-powerful psi, you wouldn’t see her as a murderer until a few minutes after she stabbed you in the heart.’’ She paused, then added, ‘‘Nothing personal, but you’re a sap.’’ She looked up at the screen. ‘‘Now if you don’t mind I’m going back to sleep.’’

  Desma dropped her head to her desk. The screen went blank.

  ‘‘Just great,’’ HARV said, hands on hips (he was doing that a lot lately— it kind of reminded me of my mom when she’s angry). ‘‘The more time we spend on the case the harder it gets to crack.’’

  I ignored HARV and continued my way to the garage. I needed to talk to Shannon. I hoped that after our conversation I would be able to remove her from my list of suspects and I’d get some clue as to who the killer was.

  Chapter 17

  The New SF UltraMax Super Security prison was housed on the island of Alcatraz. It was literally built on top of the old prison. When it was decided that the province of New Caly needed a new high-tech prison, Alcatraz seemed to be the perfect spot. After all, it was secluded and already housed a prison. Problem was some psychologists somewhere decided that the old building was so ugly that prisoners couldn’t feel good about themselves unless they could feel good about their prison. Therefore, it was decided to upgrade the old prison.

  After spending millions of credits on pre-prep-plans and pre-plans, it was determined that it was technically impossible to improve the old prison without spending more than it would cost to build a brand new prison. After a few years of debate between the World Council and Province Council it was decided that yes, they would build a new prison on top of the old.

  Everybody was happy with this except for the historians who claimed that the old prison was a classic modern relic that shed insight on a rough time in human history and we couldn’t destroy it without hurting ourselves. This sparked more debate, focus groups, and consulting firms. Finally, after years of study and billions of credits, the new facility was built on top of the old one and suspended in midair by hover disks. When all was said and done the government managed to build a five hundred million credit facility for roughly ten billion credits.

  Probably the strangest result of all this politicking was that the facility was actually quite secure. You can only get to the island by boat. Once on the island, you can only get to the prison by taking a special elevator. The entire place was a no-teleport zone, which I had no problems with.

  Carol met me at the boat dock for the ferry to Alcatraz. It was early evening and the ferry was crowded with security personnel from the night shift getting ready to go on duty. They were all dressed in white body armor from head to foot, giving them the appearance they were all cloned from the same well-built guy, even the ladies.

  So far, between Carol’s psi powers, HARV’s holograms, and my sheer dumb luck, nobody had questioned that I was police captain Tony Rickey. I was hoping we’d be able to take advantage of the shift change and sneak in without too much hassle.

  ‘‘Think like a cop,’’ HARV said.

  As the ferry crossed over to the prison I recited all the different types of donuts in my mind: crullers, cream-filled, jelly, chocolate . . .

  The ferry docked and I followed the security personnel onto an automated ramp that led through a body scanner.

  ‘‘Ah, HARV,’’ I thought. ‘‘Are you sure we’ll get through the body scanner okay?’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ HARV assured me. ‘‘I’ve interacted with its software to offset the physical differences between you and Captain Rickey.’’

  ‘‘What about the Colt?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Do you mean your weapon or a young horse?’’ HARV asked.

  ‘‘My weapon, of course.’’

  ‘‘I assumed that, but I wanted to be sure. No problems, it’s scanner cloaked,’’ HARV said. I wasn’t sure if that was still a bit of a bug in his programming or if it was an attempt to make a pun—a bad one.

  ‘‘Are you sure?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Will be, in about 12 seconds . . .’’

  I held my breath as I scrolled through the tunnel-like body scanner. After I completed the pass, two of the guards pulled me to the side.

  ‘‘Sorry, Captain Rickey,’’ one of the stone-faced men said. ‘‘We need to frisk you.’’

  ‘‘Frisk me?’’

  The other guard nodded. ‘‘Standard procedure for non-scheduled visitors.’’

  I stepped off the ramp. One of the guards pointed to a table. ‘‘Arms out and spread ’em.’’

  I placed my arms on the table. The second guard started patting me down, bottom to top. I fought back the urge to say, ‘‘Don’t spend too much time in the middle.’’ I’ve learned never to give the friskers a hard time.

  When he reached my midsection he worked his way up my arm and stopped.

  ‘‘What’s up the arm?’’ he asked.

  My only choice was to show them the Colt 2062 and hope to talk my way out of it. The Colt popped into my hand. I showed it to the guards without lookin
g at it.

  ‘‘Sweet,’’ one of the guards said.

  The other smiled and nodded.

  I looked at the Colt. It looked like a good old-fashioned billy club. ‘‘Holo-cover,’’ HARV whispered in my brain.

  ‘‘It’s in case the subject doesn’t fully cooperate,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Well, officially we have to frown on that,’’ one of the guards said.

  The two nudged each other like schoolboys on the playground. ‘‘Of course, unofficially . . .’’ The two winked at me. It was a bit off-putting, but I played along.

  I pointed to Carol, ‘‘That’s why I brought my own psi along. I plan to get the information any way I can.’’

  The guys pointed to the elevator door. ‘‘Pass.’’

  I moved into the elevator with Carol close behind me, along with five security personnel.

  A message popped into my mind, ‘‘I’m not talking because it’s taking all of my focus to keep these guards from asking too many questions. They are wearing psi scramblers. I can’t control them, but at least I can keep them from thinking very hard.’’

  ‘‘That was from Carol,’’ HARV said in my brain.

  ‘‘I know,’’ I said out loud, without thinking.

  ‘‘What do you know, Captain?’’ one of the guards asked.

  I hesitated for a nano. ‘‘I know I won’t have any problem getting a room to interrogate the prisoner.’’

  ‘‘No, of course not,’’ the guard said. He touched a button on his helmet. ‘‘Move Cannon to room 1A,’’ he said into a mike. He waited for a nano. He smiled. ‘‘They’re moving her now.’’

  ‘‘Thanks,’’ I told him. DOS, life is sure easier when the security squads are on your side.

  The elevator came to a halt, the door opened, and I followed the guards out. The place was cold and sterile, yet not in a gloomy way. It was like some architect decided that mixing a mental hospital with a day-care center would yield the perfect jail. In a way, the look worked.

  A couple of guards came up to me and saluted. A guy could get used to this.

  ‘‘Don’t get too used to this,’’ HARV and Carol both said inside my head. DOS, they knew me well.