"The healing process, it's different for everyone. Folks may tend one way or another, wanting to be around folks, wanting to be alone, working, retiring, and any combination of the same." Flynn rested a hand on her shoulder. "You're a vital woman, Arina, resilient. Hunkering down to heal up, that made sense. It was always your way. I was happy indeed to receive your invitation to visit. I took it as a good sign, especially given that I was there when everything happened."
"You helped hold me together, Dennis, and for that I owe you a debt I can't repay."
"Stopping those Spiral Way terrorists put everyone else in a debt they couldn't repay you." Flynn squeezed her shoulder. Spiral Way, being an anarchistic group looking to overthrow the Qian Commonwealth, had tried to enter Commonwealth space at Purgatory Station, figuring that any backwater station such as it would have lax security. Arina and Fith took their jobs seriously, and discovered that the Novajet Transport ship had been hijacked. In it were weapons, including some virals that would have wrought havoc within the Commonwealth. The lightfight that resulted in the transport being secured and the terrorists killed had cost the life of a half-dozen security personnel, Fith being foremost among them.
"So I've been told, many times. I know Samuel Abrams exerted considerable influence to get me a grant to live here. I think he even created and had spread a rumor saying the Spiral Way had specifically targeted Apogea to make me seem even better." She shook her head. "I'm sure some people decided I should come here since they figured my presence would be enough to keep Spiral Way on the other side of the galaxy."
"Do you think Apogea will remain paradise with news of the murder getting out?"
"It will take more than an isolated incident to bring things crashing down." Arina opened her hands as they walked along through the artist's quarter, heading toward the tall towers to the north. "You seem to assume, my friend, that in the absence of a government, the slightest pressure will cause people to revert to animals. Apogea follows a simple model, much akin to that of children playing a pickup game of hockey. They set boundaries, they devise goals, they dispense with some rules and create others to suit their needs, with the will of the group determining what is right and functional. If someone disagrees, they go home."
"The needs of the people here are far more sophisticated than the needs of children playing hockey."
"There is no disputing that. The absence of want doesn't bring with it an absence of stupidity. People get drunk and do stupid things. They get jealous and do stupid things, but those here have been screened to minimize those tendencies, and are monitored to pick up on them and exile them before they become a problem."
Flynn nodded. "And yet, Fonteneau was here. How many more like him are there?"
"No way of knowing. The fact is, of course, that he had to have lied to get here, so his behavior from the first would earn him exile the moment he was caught. But, were he to live here through his contract and function within society, would we have been diminished by his presence? Would we have suffered because of him? You can look at someone like Samuel Abrams, in fact, and note that he has likely done as much harm as good with his businesses, but as long as he fits in with our society here, what he has done off Apogea matters not at all."
"Do you believe that? What if a murderer, some planetary dictator, bought his way into Apogea, would you not find it morally reprehensible that he could be here?"
"His presence? No. Him, certainly; and I'd not associate with him at all. In some ways it could be argued that here, where there is no mechanism for generating power, such a person is rendered harmless. The simple fact of the matter, however, is that because having him here would not rise high in the consciousness of the people in terms of desire, Covenant would not generate an invitation to have him come to Apogea."
Flynn frowned. "I see your point, but I wonder at another one. You seem to argue that an absence of want leads to stability, but does it not also lead to stagnation? What impetus to strive in life?"
"For the contractors, the impetus comes in the nature of the bonuses they get when they leave us." Arina shrugged. "For the others, we are on the other side of striving. We have striven, and we are here, in a sanctuary."
Before Flynn could address that point with another concern, they reached the tower where Veronika Abrams had taken up residence. Covenant checked their identification, opening the building to them, and had a lift in the lobby waiting. It whisked them up to the fifty-first floor, opening into a marble-lined private foyer, across from which a wall of glass gave them a stunning view of the City and the lush, verdant landscape stretching far to the south.
Veronika Abrams greeted them herself. Willowy and graceful, she moved with the ease of a dancer in the flowing blue robe she wore gathered at the waist with a golden rope. Her black hair had been cut short and framed a pixieish face with large dark eyes and full lips. Flynn didn't wonder if she'd had a new face cloned then put in place—doing that was, for women of her class, to be expected and quite unremarkable. Still, the light in her eyes suggested to him that her following class convention came less out of personal vanity, than a sense of fun and delight in seeing her young self in the mirror once more.
The woman advanced, smiling. "Arina Gadja, so good to see you again. A colonel in Covenant's service, well. Unusual for a resident to work, but, I would guess, necessary. And you are Father Flynn?"
"I am."
"Don't be surprised, Father, I am well aware of who comes and goes these days. Mostly coming, a few going, of course. Tracking these things are all that keep me occupied." Veronika linked her arm through Arina's and steered her into the sitting room off to the left side of the foyer. "Now, sit and tell me what is the matter."
Arina joined Veronika on the white fabric couch, while Flynn settled into a matching chair. "Mrs. Abrams, there has been a murder."
The woman started. "A murder? Not Sam . . ."
"No, not your husband, but someone you have met before. David Holcomb. He was the wine steward at Cuisine Rigel."
Veronika frowned and glanced up toward the ceiling. "Not terribly tall, dark brown hair?"
"That's him."
"I remember him, vaguely." Her eyes sharpened. "What has this to do with me?"
"We have reason to believe he has been here, in this apartment. He has a history of theft, and was found in possession of chigger mandibles. We think he might have taken more, and you are known to have a fine collection of jewelry."
Veronika's hand went to her throat. "Mandibles . . . They're in my husband's study. That's where we have the safe. Come on."
She led them through the suite of rooms and into a room filled with dark wood panels and festooned with the mounted heads of animals slain on a half-dozen worlds. Veronika made immediately for a broad hearth, the corners of which were decorated with chigger mandibles. She counted the four pairs, then pointed to the center of the mantelpiece. "There was another set there, mounted on a stand. It's gone."
She moved to the middle of the hearth and reached up inside, fingering an unseen catch. A panel set with the Novajet logo split apart and opened right in the middle of the mantle. Veronika reached in and withdrew several velvet-covered boxes, then carefully counted them. "One's missing."
Arina took the boxes from her and put them on the massive desk situated in the corner. "Open them, tell me what's gone."
"I don't need to. . . ." Her hand covered her mouth. "It was an emerald cherengata, very rare."
Flynn blinked. "You had a cherengata?"
"Sam gave it to me as a present when we arrived here on Apogea. I don't know, didn't know, its history; that piece's history. I mean, I know that when the Zsytzii overran the Jirandik worlds, the Jirandi ransomed themselves by giving up these heirlooms. But, you know, not all of them did. Some had been sold before and, many, you know, after the Zsytzii war was settled. Sam said it was one of those, that the provenance was data-perfect on it."
The priest looked over at Arina. "Would Fonteneau steal
something to right a wrong?"
She shifted her shoulders uneasily. "For the challenge of saying he had been to Apogea and come away with a prize, certainly. A cherengata would still go for a great deal on the open market. It would be just like him to take only that one piece. And the mandibles, just to prove where he'd gotten the cherengata."
Veronika hugged her arms around herself. "Will you catch him?"
"The thief? He's dead. His murderer? I don't know." Arina smiled. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, though, Mrs. Abrams. Fonteneau had to work very hard to get here. I doubt there is anyone else who could manage the deception it took, especially as Covenant will modify procedures to prevent a recurrence. We will keep you informed of how the investigation is going. With any luck at all we should be able to return your cherengata to you."
"Thank you, Arina." The woman smiled. "I hope I won't just see you in your official capacity. I have understood your wanting time alone, but there can be too much of that. When we invited you to dinner, we weren't just being polite. On a world where people buy their way into paradise, spending time with who earned it is very dear."
Arina nodded. "I, ah . . . thank you. I'm slowly returning to the world and I appreciate your concern. I wanted to visit. I got as far as your door, but turned away. Your invitation, it was just too soon for me."
"That was understood, Arina, but the invitation is yet open. While you are in the City, we shall get time to visit, your work allowing. And you as well, Father. I was raised Catholic and have lapsed since being here. I'd offer to let you hear my Confession, but the things I have seen would give you a stroke."
"It's not the things you've seen, Mrs. Abrams, but what you've been doing while you've seen them that would be constituting sin." The priest smiled. "If you feel the need, while I am here, I would be pleased to be of service."
"I shall bear that in mind, Father, thank you."
* * *
Arina and Father Flynn caught public transport back to her apartment in the City, and Captain Lavaryn soon joined them. The two safety officers synched their datapads and then set about reviewing all they had learned. Both of them characterized it as a great deal, but lamented it still did not tell them terribly much.
David Holcomb was positively identified as Stephen Fonteneau, according to files Covenant pulled in from Commonwealth computers. How he had gotten to Apogea remained unclear, but a David Holcomb had applied for work and had been accepted, then had died in an accident. Fonteneau had somehow discovered Holcomb's misfortune and had exploited it. Because no one knew how he'd done that, the possibility that others might be present under an assumed identity could not be discounted.
Fishing was soon forgotten as hours became days of sifting evidence, formulating conjectures, finding facts to support or destroy a theory. Witnesses were interviewed again, follow-up questions narrowed the gaps in the known information. The solution to the murder lay tantalizingly close, they could feel it, but proved as elusive as Apogea's trout.
The presence of blackout chips was beyond dispute. Covenant's analysis showed they were not so sophisticated that they couldn't be manufactured right there on Apogea, fabricated from parts taken out of existing machines. Apogea safety services were having no luck tracking the distribution of the things, nor in locating the parties where the hidden met; but they felt confident they'd get a break on that angle soon. As rumors spread of the devices, all manner of folks wandered around, snooping, looking to play detective and beat the safety services at their own game, or to join the rebels who gathered to enjoy themselves.
After a week of sifting through interviews conducted in the neighborhood of Park's curio shop, the mountains of evidence that had been gathered, and applying her knowledge of criminal activity, Arina had come up with a simple theory of the case. Park's shop had not been very popular—virtually no one in the area had been in it or had seen Park. His background indicated he was a small-time merchant and she suspected that, under another name, he'd been a fence. He applied for and got passage to Apogea, either at Fonteneau's request or in seeking to hide from authorities and enemies.
Once on Apogea, he and Fonteneau met each other. Fonteneau had come for the cherengata. He arranged with Park to smuggle the loot off the world, since Park had no connection with the Abramses. Once the theft had been discovered, Fonteneau would have known that he'd be questioned, since the only sure way the thief would have known the cherengata was in the City would have been if he'd seen it on Veronika.
They pinpointed the robbery as having taken place three weeks before the murder, right after the last visit the Abramses had paid to Cuisine Rigel. Veronika remembered having worn the cherengata that night. She also recalled a discussion with their guests about all just going back to the apartment, changing into traveling clothes, and heading down to the hunting lodge. They had talked about not needing to drag anything along, since the lodge was informal and relaxed. Veronika had blushed over the fact that she treated servants as if they were invisible, providing Fonteneau with all the information he needed to accomplish his goal.
Arina assumed that after the theft, Fonteneau had given the cherengata to Park, then later changed his mind about having Park smuggle it away. They had a falling out, Park killed Fonteneau, then fled from Apogea. She did allow that it was possible that Park remained on the world, hiding himself with blackout chips, but if that were the case eventually he would be caught.
Deana Thompson's decision to prematurely terminate her contract and leave Apogea caused them to take another look at her. A discreet search of her apartment turned up nothing. She was allowed to leave and the general sentiment about her situation induced Covenant to not only pay her the bonus for which she had contracted, but to increase it.
At the spaceport, Arina and Lavaryn ushered him past immigration control, noting with a laugh that their methods had been singularly unsuccessful in stopping Park. "If you see him, Dennis, please let someone know."
Flynn nodded, standing in that limbo between Immigration and the departure lounge for the shuttle up to the orbital station. "Just as well he got away in one minor sense. Without a government, you'd be having a hard time trying him for murder. You'd exile him, which seems little punishment for his crime."
"God exiled Adam and Eve from Eden to punish them."
"But they weren't murderers."
"Cain was, and God made him wander the Earth forever." Arina smiled. "And Cain was the father of us all."
"True enough. That seed of evil might be in all of us, but perhaps your situation here doesn't nurture it. The lack of want might not be the lack of temptation, but it does seem to do away with much of it." Flynn drew Arina into a hug. "God be with you, my dear. Don't be working too hard."
Arina pulled back and smiled. "Thank you, Dennis. I am tired, but I needed this. I'll be more than ready to hang up the harness when this business is done, but for the moment it's good to remember who I was before . . ."
"I know, Rina. It's good to have you back." He shook hands with the Zsytzii. "Now, Captain Lavaryn, I expect you to be taking good care of her."
"We treasure our mentor." The Zsytzii smiled as two of his juniors hugged Arina's legs. "We have learned much, and will learn more, much more."
"Very good, the both of you. All luck and peace." Flynn plucked a small bag from one of the juniors. "Now, the lot of you, get back to work. I'll expect to hear how it turned out."
"You will, Dennis, you will." Arina waved to him, then retreated with the Zsytzii brood out of the building.
Father Flynn shouldered his bag and entered the departure lounge. He set his bag down on a bench, sparing only a brief nod in the direction of an amorous couple over in the corner. Before he could seat himself, however, a woman approached him, slowly drawing down the hood of her cloak.
Flynn let the surprise fully register on his face. "You ought not to be here, Mrs. Abrams."
She raised her wrist and tapped the blackout device. "As far as Covenant know
s, I'm not." She withdrew a small velvet-covered box from within her cloak and pressed it into his hands. "You will see to it that this gets back to its rightful owners."
"Of course."
"Thank you. I couldn't bear to keep the cherengata when I knew how it had been stolen." Veronika shook her head. "I would have sent it back directly, but Sam, he's so funny about that sort of thing. He thrills in shaving deals on the dark side of things, taking risks like that. To give this back would suggest he was wrong in having bought it in the first place. He didn't mind it being stolen back away from him. He greatly enjoyed the daring nature of the theft, and that the thief had done the impossible just to take something from him. It meant he was still important. He pretty much chortled about the theft, and has been alive planning how to secure things in the future."
Flynn nodded. "And since Covenant knows you don't want stolen pieces as gifts, your husband will not have the opportunity to buy same from now on."
"Right."
"It will be my pleasure to get this back to the Jirandi cheren to whom it belonged." He gave her a smile. "Thank you for setting this all in motion. Arina needed this. After her husband's death, she wondered if she had somehow lost her edge, and that's why he died. She needed time to mourn, and then she needed to be reminded that she is good, she's strong, she's smart. Working on this whole theft and murder might have exhausted her physically, but she's so alive mentally, well, it's good to see. Wonderful."
"I agree, Father."
"Excuse me, Father, would you want some help with your bag? We'll be boarding, soon."
The priest turned and smiled at the man from the corner. "Despite your looking a fair sight more alive than when last I saw you, Mr. Fonteneau, I'm thinking Miss Thompson there will be more appreciative of your help than I will."
"Father, that was just a brain-dead clone they made to kill, not me."
"I know, Stephen, I know." The priest shivered. "That was the nastiest bit of this deception, cloning you to kill. Now, your Miss Thompson, she's forgiven you the dying?"
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