by Malcolm Rose
Troy nodded. ‘Okay. Good point.’
‘First, though,’ she said, ‘I want to go through this charming little film again. Frame by frame. And I want Terabyte to see if he can work out where it came from.’
SCENE 15
Wednesday 16th April, Mid-morning
Troy left Lexi to her painstaking examination of the video sequence. At Saul Tingle’s suggestion, he went to see Eric Kiss in the animal laboratories instead. Showing him a still from the video on his life-logger, Troy asked, ‘Have you got any cages like this?’
Eric examined the image of three mice in a cage and muttered, ‘Maybe years ago. They’re obsolete now.’
‘But have you still got some?’
‘I imagine we chucked the lot in a skip but … Follow me. If they’re anywhere, they’ll be in the old storeroom.’ He headed down the corridor towards a fire exit at the back of the building.
On the way, Troy said, ‘I heard you volunteered to be a Friend of the Integrated Games. What’s that all about?’
Eric grinned. ‘I can’t run or jump any more – at least, not at competition standard – so I decided to get close to the action as a guide. And, as you know, I like the idea of integration. Julia’s joining me, and one or two more, I think.’
Troy chose not to reveal that the future of the Integrated Games was now in doubt.
Eric led him outside, across a courtyard and up to a long and narrow wooden building. He unlocked the door, commenting, ‘If the old cages aren’t in here, we won’t have them any more.’
A passageway running the length of the hut took them past each storage bay. About halfway down the outbuilding, Eric came to an abrupt halt. Pointing to a stack of redundant cages, he said, ‘Apparently we do have a few.’ He made for the nearest pile.
Troy stopped him with a cry. ‘No! This might be part of a crime scene. Don’t disturb anything. I think Lexi will want to examine it.’ He took a few photographs without approaching the cages. ‘Apart from you, who’s got a key to get in here?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s a caretaker. Most of the technicians come in to get things now and again when they’re needed in the labs. It’s not exactly high security. I suppose the managers have keys as well.’
Troy thrust his life-logger towards Eric and showed him a different still from the video. ‘What about that water bowl? Do you have them?’
Eric sighed. ‘I think your luck’s run out. They’re incredibly common. We don’t use them now, but everyone with a pet in a cage will have that type.’ He carried on down the narrow aisle. ‘They’ll be here somewhere, I should think.’ He found a stack of them near the far end of the shed.
‘Last picture,’ Troy said, pointing at an image that captured the gloved human hand about to put down the vial. ‘Do you recognize the shelf or the glove?’
Eric shook his head. ‘Your luck’s definitely out. They’re just not distinctive enough to say. Sorry.’
SCENE 16
Wednesday 16th April, Midday
Like all outers, Lexi didn’t sleep. She recharged through frequent fifteen-minute periods of meditation. Between studying the digital video and inspecting the outside storeroom, she took a short break to meditate. The case was clearly urgent, but she functioned best if she switched off regularly. She still spent less time out of action than any major, with their need for extended intervals of sleep.
Afterwards, she tucked into a fly burger with gusto. As she ate, she said to Troy, ‘The movie’s not high quality. Zooming in just gives you blurred pixels. And Terabyte hasn’t been able to help with the email. The address came into existence for about five minutes this morning. It was set up in this country, it was used to send the email and then it got wiped. Terabyte noted when the video was recorded, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘Apparently, in five years’ time.’ Lexi smiled. ‘Which means someone’s gone to the trouble of disguising the real timing.’
‘What about you?’ Troy asked. ‘What have you come up with?’
‘A few things. It’s a left hand that appears, so the person who owns it is either left-handed or pretending to be.’
Almost all outers were left-handed and most majors were right-handed.
Troy said, ‘That could be to throw us off the scent – to make us think it’s an outer. I imagine our guy’s a major.’
‘We’ll see. The glove’s absolutely spotless. Almost certainly new. No stains or wear marks to help me match it with a suspect’s glove. So, we’ve got a careful culprit. I checked the height of the vial and used it as a reference to measure the size of the glove. What can I say? It’s not a very reliable method, a small-handed person could have padded it with cotton wool anyway, and the size is medium – like a lot of people’s.’
Troy looked at his partner and said, ‘I’m waiting for the spark of genius that’s uncovered a killer clue.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Lexi replied. ‘The feeding bowl hasn’t got anything that distinguishes it from any other, but there’s a tiny white mark on one of the bars of the cage. The resolution isn’t good enough to tell me what it is and it could have been cleaned off by now. In other words, a clever culprit might have put it there on purpose.’ Lexi took a deep breath. ‘I spent a lot of time on the captions. I wanted to know where the words came from. Most were probably written into a document, printed out from a computer and put on a piece of cardboard, but some of them were cut out from a sports magazine. Or they could be printed out from the online version. Anyway, I guess that’s someone’s idea of a joke.’ She took another bite of the burger made from thousands of compressed flies. She washed it down with cider.
‘Taunting us with the sport connection.’
‘Yeah. But I think the word “demand” came from an article about a football manager demanding more from his players. It was published yesterday morning. The “effective” probably came from the same source – a boxer developing a more effective left-hand jab.’
Troy nodded. ‘Not far off a spark of genius. It tells us the video was shot between yesterday and five this morning when it was emailed to Saul Tingle.’
‘There’s something else you haven’t latched on to.’
‘Is there?’
‘The cut-out words were put on grey cardboard.’ She showed him a close-up on her life-logger. ‘See? It’s speckled with darker bits. As good as a fingerprint.’
‘So,’ Troy said, ‘we just need to match it … ’
‘And, hey presto, we’ve got the film-maker.’
‘There’s an awful lot of fish in the sea.’
‘I thought we were talking cardboard. Anyway, I’ve sent this picture to manufacturers. If any of them recognize it, they’ll let me know. Urgently. That’d narrow it down.’
‘Very methodical,’ said Troy, with an appreciative grin.
‘You follow your feelings. I go with facts.’
‘Hey. It’s not that simple. I might have instinct but I need you to turn every stone, looking for evidence. If there isn’t any … my guts are wrong.’
‘Is that where you keep your instinct? Maybe it’s right next to those souls you majors say you have.Obviously I wasn’t paying attention in biology lessons.’
Troy tried to keep focused. ‘What about the old storeroom?’
‘Not good,’ she said bluntly. ‘Too many people have tramped through it. There are too many shoeprints, fingerprints, fibres and the rest of it. And my life-logger didn’t find a matching animal cage. No tell-tale white mark in the right place. Conclusion? The video might have been shot here, and it might not.’
‘I hope it was,’ Troy replied. ‘That’d mean the soil sample’s still here, still fairly secure. If it was recorded somewhere else, the poison’s out there, closer to being released.’
‘Yeah. But would our separatist set it up here and take the risk of someone bursting in while they’re filming?’
‘Probably less of a risk if it was sometime after midnight. Just the night-shift
outers to worry about.’
‘I’ll set up some spy cameras at all entrances,’ Lexi decided. ‘And I’m going to have another look at the movie.’
‘What for?’
‘Shadows and light.’ Concentrating on the vial, she said, ‘See? No shadow. So, this wasn’t shot in sunlight – which would come in from the side through a window and make a shadow. Assuming there’s no window in the ceiling, the room’s got an artificial light overhead.’
‘You mean like most rooms?’
‘Even the smallest thing can help.’
‘I hear the sound of a barrel having its bottom scraped.’
‘So, what’s next, do you reckon?’ Lexi asked.
‘I don’t think we’ve squeezed all the juice out of Precious Austin yet.’
SCENE 17
Wednesday 16th April, Early afternoon
With a roll of corrugated cardboard in her left hand, Precious was about to climb into her bee suit when Troy and Lexi called. At once, she abandoned the idea.
Lexi held out her arm and said, ‘I’ll take a look at the cardboard.’
Precious frowned. ‘What? Why?’ But she handed it over anyway.
Lexi didn’t answer. Instead, she scanned it with her life-logger.
Troy asked, ‘What’s it for?’
‘It’s fuel for my smoker.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You must have seen a bee smoker. It burns things like this type of rolled-up cardboard. It smoulders nicely, making smoke that calms the bees down. Right now, the hives are expanding, almost fully operational. I need to inspect them.’ She took the cardboard back from Lexi and said, ‘Do outers like you ever eat bees?’ The question was almost an accusation.
‘Ugh. No. They don’t look appetizing at all. We do everyone a favour by stuffing ourselves with maggots, cockroaches, ants and spiders. There are plenty of them and they’re usually a nuisance. Flies, grasshoppers and crickets as well.’
Troy sprung an unexpected question on Precious. ‘Aren’t you a member of TRAPT?’
For an instant, she flinched. ‘Of what?’
‘TRAPT.’
‘TRAPT. I’ve heard of that. Not recently, though. Wasn’t it an old political party or something similar?’
‘Look,’ Troy said with a weary sigh. ‘We’re investigating an extremely serious crime that may have been carried out by a member of a separatist organization like TRAPT. If you deliberately refuse to help us, you’re putting lives at risk and perverting the course of justice. That carries a prison sentence.’
‘I don’t know anything about it.’
‘I’ll do you a deal,’ said Troy. ‘No names or anything personal. Just tell me when and where the next meeting’s happening.’
‘You said a deal. What do I get?’
Troy didn’t hide his impatience and annoyance. ‘It’s more what you don’t get. You don’t get arrested on suspicion of serial killing and perverting the course of justice.’
‘If I knew anything … ’
Troy interrupted. ‘Why don’t you think about it and send the information to me? You can do it anonymously if you like.’
‘I’ll talk to a few people and see what turns up.’
‘Don’t linger over it. We’re in a hurry.’ Before leaving, he asked, ‘What did you do with your golden goodbye from Shallow End Laboratories?’
‘Golden goodbye? That’s a nice way of putting it, but it wasn’t very golden. I set myself up with more and better bee-keeping equipment. I’m trying to make a go of my honey-making business.’
SCENE 18
Wednesday 16th April, Afternoon
Standing in Commander McVeigh’s office at Shepford Crime Central reminded Troy of being back at school. He felt as if he were being quizzed by the head teacher about some misbehaviour. He shuffled from foot to foot. Beside him, Lexi did not seem so edgy. She was usually more relaxed than Troy.
‘The Integrated Games will be cancelled, of course,’ the chief of police told them. ‘The media office is preparing to release the news. But there’ll be no mention of the real reason. There’ll be a safety issue – a flaw in the stadium structure – because we must avoid alarm at all costs. The investigation will be conducted very sensitively. Do you understand me?’
Troy and Lexi both nodded.
The commander looked at them in turn. ‘It’s the most important case ever on my patch and I’m aware that you’re inexperienced. Are you confident that you can bring it to a satisfactory conclusion – or would you prefer to surrender it?’
The young detectives glanced at each other. At once, Troy read Lexi’s mood from her expression. ‘We haven’t hit the buffers yet. We’re making progress and we want to stick with it.’
‘You’re top of Crime Central’s priorities. Anything you want – backup, more forensics, anything at all – you’ll get immediately.’
‘Thank you, but we’re okay at the moment.’
‘Good. Because a tight team keeps information contained,’ Commander Cheryl McVeigh said. ‘The fewer people who know what’s happening, the better. The less leaks out. But if you call for more officers, you’ll get them. They’ll crack on with whatever you want them to do, but we’ll avoid giving them the whole picture.’
Troy and Lexi nodded their agreement.
McVeigh added, ‘Remember, there’s no shame in asking a more seasoned detective to step in.’
Lexi’s life-logger began to vibrate.
‘If it’s to do with the case,’ the commander said, ‘take it.’
Lexi read the message. ‘It’s the cardboard used in the video. I’ve got its source.’
‘Good. But before I let you get on with it, I need to ask you both the same question. For the sake of half of the human races, you must give me an honest answer. First, Troy. Do you believe your current partner is the best person for this job?’
Without turning towards Lexi, Troy said, ‘Yes. I can’t imagine anyone better.’
‘Lexi Four. You’re the more experienced detective in this team. You’ve had a few different partners and you’ve been outspoken and critical of their merits. You’re also an outer so your life is on the line here. Think carefully. Is Detective Goodhart the best person to help you complete this assignment?’
Lexi glanced sideways before answering, ‘Yes. He’s … ’
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Perceptive.’
‘Perceptive? That’s what his record says. And very little else.’
‘He’s thorough as well. Probably better than all my previous partners. Mind you, they were … ’
‘This isn’t a time for joking.’
‘It wasn’t a joke. It was going to be an honest assessment of previous majors.’
‘Enough. You’re both satisfied with the current arrangement. For now, I’m prepared to leave you in charge of the case – but only on the understanding that you’ll request a more experienced officer on the slightest suspicion that you need assistance or advice. Are we all on the same wavelength?’
At the same time, Troy and Lexi answered, ‘Yes.’
‘Now, do you want to ask me anything else?’
Troy knew that his superior was hinting. ‘About what?’ he prompted.
‘I listened to the interview you’ve just had with Precious Austin. Not surprisingly, you got frustrated.’
Troy realized what was on the chief’s mind. ‘She knows something about a separatist group called Two Races Apart. TRAPT. Do you know anything about it?’
Glancing at Lexi, Commander McVeigh said, ‘You’re right. He’s perceptive.’ Addressing Troy again, she said, ‘No, not really. But I know a man who does. An undercover officer. Dominic Varney. He infiltrated TRAPT a while ago, but I don’t recall any important feedback so we sent him to prison instead. Kindale Prison. Not an enviable place to be. He unearthed a lot of intelligence there. He’s out now. Undercover work takes its toll, though. Sometimes, you get too bound up with the organization you’re supposed to be inv
estigating. You play the bad boy’s role so well that you become a bad boy. So, I’ve given him a period of leave – to readjust. When he was undercover, he wasn’t wearing a life-logger, of course, so there’s no official record. It’s all word of mouth. But maybe he can throw some light on TRAPT for you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ve been in contact and he’s going to meet you in Cloverleaf Park at seven thirty.’
‘Okay. That’s good.’
‘Dismissed. And good luck.’
Striding along the corridor, Troy was the first to speak. ‘Thanks for what you said in there.’
‘Huh. Ditto.’
‘Tell me about cardboard.’
‘It’s fascinating stuff.’
Troy frowned. ‘Is it?’
‘No. A company recognized it as theirs, though. It’s a cheap recycled product. No great strength but they sell it for packaging – wrapping plates, ornaments and that sort of thing.’
‘Do makers of scientific glassware wrap their vials and other bits and pieces in it before they’re shipped out to places like Shallow End Laboratories?’
Lexi smiled. ‘That’s what I’m going to check when we’re back there.’
SCENE 19
Wednesday 16th April, Early evening
A cool breeze blew around Cloverleaf Park as daylight began to fade, but there was no rain. Troy and Lexi sat on one of the benches. Lexi watched the lights of Shepford turning on one at a time, like stars coming into view at nightfall. Troy glanced anxiously around the park. It wasn’t huge; roughly circular with a perimeter path. From where they were sitting, Troy could turn his head and see almost every metre of the track. At seven thirty-two, he was relieved to see a well-built middle-aged man in shorts and T-shirt enter from the gate to the right and run towards them.
He didn’t stop, though. He glanced at them as he jogged past. That’s all. No acknowledgement, no smile, no greeting. He continued his run around the perimeter.
‘That’ll be him,’ Troy said to his partner. ‘He’s cautious. Checking the area out first.’