3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2

by Ed Howdershelt

  "Well?" she asked. "We're here. How about telling us why we're here."

  "Thirteen minutes. You're both fired. I wasn't kidding."

  Hawkins snapped, "We had to wait for an elevator."

  "Carlton, is that true?"

  She seemed taken aback by my question and glanced at Hawkins.

  "Of course it's true. Why..?"

  "Stephie, is that true?"

  "No, Ed."

  Carlton started to say something, but I cut her off again.

  "I hate liars. Stephie, put fields on all entrances to their offices, record any communications these two may make before they leave the station, and keep an eye on them. Tomorrow someone will escort them when they clean out their stuff."

  "Yes, Ed."

  Hawkins began a protest and Carlton joined her. I raised a hand.

  "Both of you get out of my room. Now. Without one word. Go."

  They didn't move instantly, but they did turn and leave. I turned to Williams and Price.

  "I'm not a cop," I said. "I'll need cops to make sense of cop stuff. You two were picked to come here and catch my heat for the Pratt checkup, weren't you? That would seem to mean you weren't Hawkins' favorite people."

  Price said, "I couldn't say for sure, of course, but it damned well seemed that way to me. You're right. We aren't the most popular team in the Security offices."

  "That usually means you're too tight or too loose to suit the brass."

  "It means we've questioned procedures," said Williams. "Merritt ran Security during construction and the first quarter. Hawkins replaced Merritt when he went home. Everybody suddenly had to look busy all the time, even if they had to invent things to do. It turned pretty chickenshit around here overnight."

  Price gave him a glaring glance at the word 'chickenshit'.

  "Uh, huh. Who was Merritt's second in command, and is he or she still here?"

  "Caitlin, Sandra P.," said Price.

  "Call her. Tell her I want to ask her a few questions and that she should come down here. No time limit and no anxiety, please. I want to see how she handles it."

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Price called Caitlin, Sandra P., without leaving my room. Williams and I sat silently as she relayed my request that she drop by as soon as possible. Caitlin said to give her time to get dressed and she'd be on her way.

  "She was about to go to bed," said Price. "Hawkins had her on a swing shift."

  She made it in good time. Twenty minutes was Price's guess, but Caitlin was at my door in fifteen or so. She was a tall, near-forty brunette in a uniform that had already seen a day's work. After a brief greeting, I pulled out a chair for her at my table.

  "Carlton and Hawkins are out. You were Merritt's second. Could you have done his job? No ego and no bullshit, please. We need to know for real."

  I gestured around the table and emphasized, "That's 'we', not just me."

  Caitlin glanced at Price and Williams and then looked at me, as if searching me for a trap. She put her hat on the table and tapped a nail a few times on the brim.

  "Yes. Being able to take his place was part of my job description."

  "One moment, please. Price. Williams. Would this fly with the troops?"

  They didn't even have to look at each other. Each nodded separately.

  Price said, "Yes. Everybody knows her. Merritt used her extensively and trusted her with his authorization for everything, as far as I know. If he was off-station, she was in command, not just answering his calls."

  Caitlin was startled by Price's outpouring and stared at her as the last words left her mouth.

  Price shrugged at her and said, "Well? That's the way it was."

  "Good enough for me for now. Caitlin, will you take Hawkins' job?"

  Caitlin's stare at Price became a steady gaze at me.

  "I'll take it. Do I get a night's sleep, first?"

  "Check the office and make sure it can run itself for a night, then crash. Tomorrow you'll be supervising the removal of personal effects from two offices, then it's business as usual. Stephie, pop in and visit with us, please. Join us at the table."

  Stephie's visual snapped into being a few feet from us and seemed to take a pace forward. She then pulled a chair from some nowhere zone behind her and sat down near the table.

  "Everybody, this is Stephie. Stephie, this is everybody. Caitlin is now head of Security on the station for the time being. Watch her and help her, of course. If she works out well, she's going to be keeping the job. If not, I need to know."

  They were all still staring at Stephie as she smiled and said, "Okay, Ed."

  Caitlin pulled her gaze from Steph and asked, "What about Carlton's spot? Who fills that vacancy? Hopefully not that toady she called an assistant?"

  "Don't know yet. Suggestions are welcome."

  Williams said, "I have one. Pratt."

  I said, "Pratt's a temp until a teaching job opens, Williams."

  "So? You have an empty chair. Pratt could fill it for now."

  "For reasons I won't go into, that might look funny as hell to some people. Let me think about it. I'm not saying no. I'm only saying I want to consider it."

  He nodded, but he seemed to think I'd shot his idea down.

  "Caitlin, who's above the head of security on the station? Top of the pile. Board members don't count."

  "Top of the pile would be Linda Graves, at the Carrington training facility."

  "Stephie, contact Linda Graves. Tell her what I've done with Caitlin and why, and see if she agrees. Give her a copy of the day's events if she doesn't already have one. Tell her about Williams's suggestion for Pratt, too. We'll let her be the deciding vote."

  "Done, Ed. I'm waiting for a reply."

  "Damn, you're good, ma'am. Got any comments of your own?"

  "Caitlin can do Hawkins' job. Pratt appears able do Carlton's job, but would she want Carlton's job? She'd be stepping down and into one of the other board members' domains by taking the teaching job later. That could turn things internally political, and once you leave, her protection would be gone."

  "You'd be here, though. We'll ask her tomorrow if Graves okays the idea."

  Some minutes later, Linda's reply came in her usual terse form.

  "Caitlin's a good choice. Pratt can replace Carlton as her temp job, but because the teaching position will put her under Barlow later, see if she's interested first. You're stirring the anthill, so be careful. Anything else?"

  To Stephie, I said, "Nothing else. Thanks. End message."

  To Caitlin, I said, "I guess that's it, then. Tell Pratt about the opening and see if she wants it. I'll call your office tomorrow to arrange for Hawkins and Carlton to get their personals out of their offices. I want to be there for a look around. If there are no further comments..?"

  I stood up. They followed suit.

  "Okay, then. I'm designing a padmail statement to go out this evening to everyone on the station, so I need to get to it. What happened here is not a secret, and that's a hint, people. Feel free to discuss it with anyone. Time to go now."

  A round of handshakes and thanks and everybody was out the door. As the door shut I sat back down at the table and sipped my coffee.

  "Stephie, how the hell did you make that water rise out of the carpet and flow back into the sink?"

  "Practice, of course. What do you think I do with my spare time? Hang around waiting for you to call?"

  I set to work on the padmail memo to all station personnel. After much thought and a couple of rewrites, it simply read:

  'To: All people of this station

  Your station computer had been compromised by person or persons yet unknown, and rather than risk repeated compromisings of that computer, I've installed another core to restore and preserve station functions.

  Your new computer's name is Stephanie. Please become familiar with her because she will be your station computer for at least the next six months.

  At the end of that time, she will ask y
ou, by means of a public vote, whether you wish to keep her or accept the Board's recommendation that she be replaced by a traditional computer having no personality or self-awareness.

  I will be in command of the station only until the investigation of recent deadly incidents is completed and I will endeavor not to interrupt normal station functions.

  Other concerns should be addressed through regular channels.'

  "Well, Steph? What do you think?"

  "I think you shouldn't include your own padmail address, Ed. You could be inundated with responses."

  "You send it out, then. Who's in charge of communications?"

  "Board member Wickson's offices."

  "Fine. Let responses go to his offices, then. I suppose it's only fair to warn him. Would you contact him for me?"

  A moment later, Wickson answered, "I'm here. Are you calling to fire me, too?"

  "Nope. I just wanted to let you know I'm having Stephie send out a memo to everybody on the station and that your office will be handling any responses."

  "What kind of memo? Will a lynch mob show up at my door?"

  "Maybe not. Want to preview the message? Stephie will send you a copy now."

  Wickson seemed surprised at that.

  "Yes. I would."

  Stephie sent him a copy. He was quiet for some moments, then asked, "This is all of it? You've left nothing out?"

  "That's all I wanted to say, Wickson."

  "When were you going to send it?"

  "Today. Now, in fact."

  "I'll take care of it. I'm in my office. One moment."

  He didn't turn off his watch, so I heard him telling someone to send the message to all pads on the station. I covered my own watch for a moment.

  "Stephie, verify the sending. Make sure nobody's left out."

  Wickson said, "It's going out now."

  "Thanks, Wickson. Why are you being so cooperative?"

  "You fired Carlton for being a few minutes late, didn't you?"

  "No. I fired her because she lied to me. I hate liars. I fired Hawkins for incompetence and for backing up Carlton's lie, as well as using two of her people as the butt of a bad joke."

  "They didn't mention any other reasons."

  "It's all in this evening's public record. Look it up. If you think I've made a wrong decision, let me know. See you later."

  I closed the link and went back to the kitchenette to refill the sink and practice some more with my field implant. Stephie's image followed me and stood a few feet away, watching my efforts.

  When I distractedly set my mug down on the bowl of a spoon, the handle end flipped up and sent the spoon flying into the sink. I used my field to reach through the water and pick up the spoon, then set it on the drainboard and stared at it for a moment as a thought formed. Leverage.

  The implant could only lift small weights because it served as an anchor to the effort. Suppose that a field effort could be anchored at midpoint or closer to the object, like a fulcrum? The arm of the field that connected to the implant would present far less strain on surrounding bone tissue.

  I envisioned a lever-and-fulcrum arrangement between me and my suitcase and sent the end of the field through the case's handle. When all seemed set, I applied downward pressure to my end of the lever.

  The suitcase lifted a few inches, then a foot. I felt a bit of strain at my end of the lever, but the suitcase continued to rise until it was two feet above the floor.

  Steph said, "Ed, be careful. I can repair the damage if you dislodge your implant, but it will be quite painful at the time."

  "I'll let it drop if I feel real strain, Steph. How much does the suitcase weigh?"

  "Thirty-one pounds."

  "That's a bit more than I expected. Maybe I need to pack lighter."

  I let the suitcase down and relaxed. A wave of fatigue washed over me. Steph said that the human brain normally used around twenty percent of the body's energy, but that the implant could cause it to use double that amount during field emanations.

  "Then it's naptime, Steph. It's close to five. Rouse me in an hour, okay?"

  She said, "Okay," then her image disappeared.

  Something other than Stephie woke me five minutes before six. I sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments and tried to figure out why I was awake, then went to the kitchenette to take my coffee mug out of the fridge and sent a very small hot spot into the coffee to warm it up.

  "Stephie, were there any messages while I was out?"

  "None, Ed."

  "Good. Thanks, ma'am. Is there a Chinese restaurant on the station?"

  "That restaurant is two decks below your position."

  "Thanks again."

  I unpacked my one remaining suitcase as I finished my coffee. It was the formal stuff, naturally. I decided to eat dinner and do some shopping, so I cleaned up and headed for an elevator.

  "Stephie, I saw a pet section in one of the stores last night, so there have to be a few pets up here. Have there been any mysterious ailments among them?"

  "There have been three cases of what appeared to be asthma. One case resulted in death of the animal. All of the cases involved small dogs and occurred as their owners were walking them in arboretum six. Nothing toxic was found in the area."

  "The area? Not the areas?"

  "The area. Singular. All of the cases occurred near the entrance to section six."

  "What's in section six?" I asked. "And please don't say 'plants'. I know what an arboretum is, Steph."

  "Oh, yes, sir, sir. It contains plants native to the northeastern U.S."

  As I got into the elevator, I asked, "Any special displays there, or just a general taste of home?"

  "No special displays, Ed. Just trails among the trees and a recreation of that region's seasonal climate in order to accommodate the plants' normal cycles."

  "It sounds like a place that someone who was homesick might visit. Or someone who'd simply found fascination with that environment. Got a list of everybody who's visited during the dog illnesses? For that matter, a list of who's visited and when during the last few months?"

  "It will be in your pad in a moment. There appear to have been attempts to erase some of the records. I'm trying to recreate them. At least five of the visits appear to have been made by Board member Carlton within the last three months of station construction. She has made two visits since construction ended."

  "I can think of a number of reasons why a politically-involved woman might not want her comings and goings on record. Unless the records appear to be connected to the events we're investigating, they can stay hidden from the public."

  "Got it. In each of the entries logged during the station's construction, she logged in at the same time as a man named Webster. He was one of the construction foremen who didn't remain after the station was completed. All I have are login and logout times; peoples' activities aren't recorded."

  When the elevator stopped, the Chinese restaurant was only about fifty feet away at the opening of the corridor. It didn't seem to be crowded, so I went inside. After being seated at a corner booth and ordering, I sat sipping hot tea and thinking for a moment, then called Stephanie back.

  "Do any of their visits correspond timewise to station damage or the sick dogs?"

  "No, Ed. They don't correspond to any of those incidents."

  "They were probably romantic matters, then. We'll concentrate on visits made when dogs were injured or killed, first. I think someone found a new way to use a PFM and was practicing in the woods with it, Stephie. Those logs may show us who suffocated the guy in the production area."

  "Ed, I've found something that may be of importance. A man named Philip Brinks was present during most of Carlton's visits to the arboretum. Except for her first two meetings with Webster, he logged in and out at almost the same time she did. Since Webster's return to Earth, he's visited the arboretum quite often, and some of those times do correspond to incidents of station damage or dog ailments."

  "Was
he there alone, or were others in the arboretum?"

  "Others were there during most of his visits. They were seldom the same people, and their login and logout times don't seem to match his very well."

  "Call them innocent bystanders for now, then. What do you know about Brinks?"

  "Caucasian male, age fifteen. His father is a line worker. His mother is deceased."

  "Does he seem to have any links to Carlton at all?"

  "Nothing except visiting times at the arboretum."

  "What about links to Webster?"

  "The same, Ed. Only arboretum visits."

  "Thanks, Steph. Let me know if you spot anything that ties these people together in other ways at other times."

  "Okay, Ed."

  My pepper steak meal was fortunately almost finished when Leslie called. Stephie fielded the call. Somewhere along the line she'd made herself my de facto secretary.

  Steph said, "Ed, it's Leslie on line one."

  "Line one? What show did that come from, Steph?"

  "Darrin's secretary says it in some episodes of 'Bewitched'. One reviewer thought that since there was always a different woman in the role, the part was given to peoples' girlfriends."

  "That's possible, and it would be a typical assumption in Hollywood, but it could also be that they didn't use the role enough to justify retaining a regular."

  "You always like to err on the side of caution, don't you, boss? Except when you don't, of course. Shall I put her through?"

  "That bit about erring sounds as if it came from a detective show, not a comedy."

  "I'm gregarious."

  Leslie said, "Ed? Do you have time to tell me why I was offered a job on the very board you commandeered this morning?"

  "I have a minute, so I'll give it to you. Inspector Williams suggested you, Caitlin approved it, Linda approved it, and I went along with it."

  "I'm not willing to believe that it wasn't a setup, Ed. Nobody puts a simple schoolteacher in a job like that."

  "Check the record, then believe what you want. Take the job or don't."

  "Are you paying off your guilt from dumping me? Is that it?"

  "You'll believe whatever you want to believe, so as I said, take the job or don't, but don't talk it to death. Let me get back to my dinner now."