“Christ!” Obviously another thought had struck Theroux and it was not one that he liked. “Did you put the pressure on Brownly and Goff? Did you make up all that stuff about them?”
“What stuff is this?” enquired Butler politely.
“Oh right,” said Theroux, “like you weren’t following developments, Simon.”
Butler raised innocent eyebrows. “Hacking’s illegal,” he said.
“So’s murder,” said Nathan flatly. “And no I didn’t set up Brownly and Goff. Somebody did but it wasn’t me. There are probably fall-guys like them on any station that’s featured in the programme.”
“Programme,” said Butler softly, his face alive with exaggerated wonder, “it’s a programme.”
“Why this station?” asked Lancine. “Because of me?”
My God Nathan thought bleakly, paranoia really is rife out here, and said: “The building work made coming and going easier, and death more…”
“Odds-on,” said Butler and when Nathan nodded, went on, “Is that your explanation of how Hendvorrsen was killed? Lurkers among the girders?”
Lancine snorted, “They would have ’ad to be invisible.”
“Why?” asked Nathan. “Hendvorrsen wasn’t on visual scan and there are no close-range radars. I don’t think anyone else was reporting back on his position, were they, Simon?”
Butler shook his head.
Lancine said, “There were six people out there when ’e died.”
“From a distance everyone looks the same in a spacesuit,” said Nathan, “and any one person’s field of vision is restricted. My guess is that there were at least seven people out there when he died.”
“If he was attacked – “ Butler said.
Nathan interrupted him. “Interfered with rather than attacked. You have to remember he wasn’t experienced and he wasn’t expecting an attempt on his life.”
“Whatever,” Butler said. “Why didn’t he say he was in trouble? He had a suit radio which he was using pretty freely.”
“The killer jammed it. Not difficult to do.”
“And his suit alarm, what about that? You can’t jam a suit alarm.” Butler’s amused detachment was becoming less amused and less detached suddenly.
“Hendvorrsen’s suit alarm didn’t work,” said Nathan.
Butler made no attempt to keep the sneer out of his voice. “That was convenient.”
“It wasn’t a coincidence,” Nathan said mildly. “A suit with a non-functioning alarm had been provided beforehand.”
“They were all tested, Nathan,” Theroux pointed out gently. “You were there when they were all tested.”
Dismissively Lancine said, “Per’aps you know longer remember, but I insisted on a test before we went outside. Any fault would have shown up then.”
“The fault did show up then. That was how the killer got to find out who was wearing the target suit.”
Butler was smiling again. “You’re saying Hendvorrsen wasn’t the target? After all this highly imaginative brouhaha, they got the wrong one?”
Have I got the wrong one? thought Nathan. It seems that there are no signs of physical injury. The impairment of brain function is ’owever a possibility… “Hendvorrsen’s presence guaranteed publicity and that was what they were interested in. The accident victim wasn’t important. It could have been any one of them. That’s why it worked for so long. None of the victims was ever important.”
“This is nonsense,” Lancine said, “the suit alarms were tested. We know they all worked.”
Nathan closed his eyes. “If the tests had been carried out one at a time, the way you suggested Françoise, then the fault would have been obvious to everyone including the wearer, but it wasn’t done like that was it? And why wasn’t it done like that?”
Listen Françoise there’s no point in doing this by numbers. They have to do it randomly paying no attention to each other.
Some will overlap.
You mean they won’t panic in an orderly fashion?
I mean you will ’ave more than one at a time to deal with.
Isn’t that what you’re paying me for?
Very well, base control. We will do it your way… in your own time, gentlemen.
“And why wasn’t it done like that?” Nathan asked again.
It was Theroux who said, “Simon wanted the tests to be realistic.”
There’s nothing like a good panic to waste time and energy.
Nathan opened his eyes. “There’s nothing like a good panic,” he said, looking at Butler, “to cover up the fact that one suit alarm was disconnected, and to find out which one it was. Until you ran the tests, you didn’t know who’d drawn the short straw, did you?”
“You’re not suggesting I murdered Hendvorrsen are you?” Butler asked and laughed.
“I’m suggesting that having identified the victim you informed whoever was waiting outside and they did the rest.”
“Bollocks,” said Butler, “total bollocks.”
“You used virtually the same strategy on me,” Nathan said. “You panicked everyone over Brownly, and overloaded the systems so when I yelled for help, no-one was listening – not even the computer.”
“Are you just going to sit there,” Butler demanded, getting out of his chair and moving towards Lancine’s desk, “and let this brain-damaged groundsider ruin the career of the best in the business, the best bloody traffic controller you or any other fucker is ever likely to come across?”
Lancine stared down at her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She was blank-eyed and seemed no longer to be listening. It occurred to Nathan that she might only now be realizing that her progress in the ESA would be stalled by this; probably for good. Chances were that Butler’s ‘climbing frog’ would get no further up the tree. He felt almost sorry for her as he said to Butler: “Loss of career is the least of your problems. In the matter of the death of Lars Hendvorrsen you’re facing charges of conspiracy; accessory to murder before and after the fact…”
Butler turned his back on Lancine and held up his arms in an elaborate gesture which was quite at odds with the low key English personality he had been displaying. Conscious of this inappropriate behaviour, Nathan tensed ready for him to make some sort of aggressive move. Psych training was very positive about such indicators, the precursors of violence. But there was nothing threatening in what Butler did next. He simply stood where he was and asked almost plaintively, “Why? Why would I have done it?”
“Money?” Theroux said. “They pay you to look the other way, Simon? They’d never have gotten past you, isn’t that right? You’re the best in the business. You just said that to Françoise. Shit, that’s what you always said to everyone. Must have finally paid off, huh? Is that what happened? Did these guys buy that crap?”
“For quite large sums actually, David old love. And it isn’t crap.”
“So you were insurance.”
Butler smiled and said, “Lloyds of London revisited,” and then he back-flipped neatly over the desk, tugging himself down to stand beside Lancine. Before she or either of the Star Cops –
I’m a Star Cop for Christ’s sake, Nathan was thinking, how can this be happening in front of me while I squat here like a bump on a log?
– could react, he produced a small automatic pistol from his pocket and rested the barrel lightly in Lancine’s left ear.
Though he knew something was going to happen, the move took Nathan completely by surprise. It hadn’t even struck him as an option. Fuck it. Weightlessness would never be instinctive, no matter how much skill he worked up. You can take the man out of gravity, but not gravity out of the man… but you can keep it light, you must keep it light, and smooth, nothing sudden, nothing dark. As casually as he could he said, “How very traditional of you, Sim
on. A choice of three hostages and you pick the woman.”
Equally casually Butler said, “If I’m going to have to kill someone, I’d sooner it was someone I didn’t like much.”
Lancine shifted her head slightly, leaning a little away from the gun and trying to look at him.
“Sit still, Françoise,” Butler murmured, with a small, smug smile. There was something obscene about the intimacy of his tone. He was clearly enjoying the physical power he had over the woman. Nathan wondered if he was getting an erection from it.
“Madame Lancine,” Lancine said coldly.
Nathan tried to catch her eye and failed. Don’t challenge him, he thought, not yet, not in that position. He might kill you for the climax.
“Or Madame la directrice, if you would prefer.” Her face and voice were stone-smooth and unyielding. The stress was gone from her features, anger made her young now.
Butler poked the gun a bit harder into her ear. “I would prefer that you remain silent and motionless, until I tell you otherwise.”
Theroux said, “You can’t fire that thing in here!” He was angry too and more than a little bewildered, but Nathan was relieved to see that he had enough sense to stay in his seat.
“I can fire it in here,” said Butler, indicating Lancine’s ear. “No danger to life-support.” He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice slightly, “Apart from yours of course.”
“You miserable, sick prick,” said Theroux.
Butler straightened up. “There’s a reduced load in the cartridges, David. I could risk putting a slug or two in your direction if it became…appropriate.”
“I’m impressed, Simon. No really I am. Assholes with guns have always been tops with me.”
“That’s enough, David,” Nathan said.
“Shut the fuck up!” Theroux blazed. “This is between him and me!”
“Shut the fuck up sir,” Nathan said, quietly enough for the emphasis to be arresting. “And what’s between him and you is a hostage, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Slow on the uptake, our coloured cousins, and given to irrational violence,” smiled Butler. “I’ve always thought that if it wasn’t for their normally sunny natures, they would make natural policemen.”
“So what now?” asked Nathan, hoping to forestall any further outbursts from Theroux. Oddly though his rage seemed to have subsided into a scowling sullenness. Nathan wondered briefly at the speed of the change. Butler answered, “Unlikely as it may seem I hadn’t really given it much thought.” He was so relaxed and careless of what was happening that he looked to Nathan like a man who might have decided to die.
“Since this is a game of ‘Simon Says’,” Lancine said, “I am ready to start by suggesting what you can do wiz that gun.” The woman’s tone was mild, but her eyes were fierce with violation. Nathan could see she was going to do something stupid. He set himself to dive at Butler when she did. He had to try for the gun – if he could just work out the trajectory, find the right point of thrust, there might be some chance.
Theroux hunched forward in his seat, and said, “I thought we were supposed to be friends, Simon.” His voice was loud with reproach and Nathan glanced across at him. He saw to his surprise, that without giving any obvious sign of it, Theroux had managed to detach himself from his seat and his slippers from the floor. It was unlikely that Butler could tell from where he was, but Theroux was floating poised on the tips of his toes. “I thought we were friends,” he repeated.
“I know you did,” said Butler cruelly. “And in the circumstances it would seem churlish to kill you, so I’d prefer to avoid that, if at all possible.” He twisted the gun upwards in Lancine’s ear in an effort to raise her from her seat. “On your feet, Madame la directrice.” She resisted the push.
It was time to do it, Nathan thought. Now. I’ve got to do it now.
“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do,” said Theroux. Butler looked at him quickly, but he had not changed position, angle and attitude remained reassuringly down.
Butler grinned. “Fifty,” he said. “The bid is fifty.” He twitched the gun. “On your feet, woman or ‘bang’ is what you hear forever.”
“Fifty?” said Theroux.
“Could be our last game,” said Butler.
“Now look, I’ve had enough of this,” Nathan protested. “You people are not beyond the law. This has got to stop.” He stood up abruptly.
“Sit down, groundsider!” snapped Theroux.
Barely glancing in his direction, Butler said, “Do it, Spring.”
Nathan had judged the force of his rise exactly. He was already detached from the floor and floating gently upwards. “I can’t,” he said, waving his arms and looking helpless. It should be convincing, he thought, because he was helpless – but was Butler’s arrogant contempt for groundsiders enough to let him fall for this act again?
“For Christ’s sake,” said Butler, with mounting irritation, “if you can’t control yourself you’re going to get somebody killed here, and it’ll be your fault!” He was still holding the gun firmly in place, but his attention was partly on Nathan now.
Lancine and Theroux stiffened to fight. Nathan could feel them tightening. Not yet, he thought, not yet. They were edging to the moment, aching to act. “No!” he said. It held them both paused for a few blinks more as he drifted onwards. “I’m sorry about this. But don’t lets lose our heads because I lost my footing.” He was almost within reach of the wall.
Wait…wait… wait…
And then Lancine could wait no longer. She ducked forward and down, away from the gun, at the same time slapping back at it with her left arm. She thrashed round with her other arm, furious to strike at her tormentor and smash her fear and pain into him, too angry to pick the vulnerable points and aim at them. For a moment, the abandoned ferocity of her assault disconcerted Butler. For a moment, it confused him.
For a moment he could not decide whom to kill.
Theroux had been ready to launch himself at Butler as soon as an opportunity offered, but Lancine’s action was fractionally sooner than he expected. When she jumped the gun, she had jumped the gun, and he kicked off too late and flew towards the desk too late, too late goddammit goddammit goddammit he didn’t want to die for this tight-assed bitch too late.
Nathan reached the top of his drift as she moved, he clapped his hands on the wall, flipped over like a turning swimmer and thrust with his legs, down towards the gun.
Butler saw Theroux coming. Caught the movement as he had flown from his seat and looked as he loomed, arms outstretched, face set and staring with strain and fear. The woman’s frantic battering was no threat. He pulled the gun away from her and turned it into Theroux’s face.
Too late goddammit.
“Honky motherfucker!”
“Fuck you, nigger!”
And he pulled the trigger. As the hammer dropped, Nathan smashed down onto the gun. The shot burned and bit into Butler’s thigh, a bone-bruising punch which thumped the gun loose, spinning it away. Theroux rolled to one side and caught it.
“That’s another dollar you owe the fund, Simon,” he said.
The security restraints that held Butler on the med-lab sleeping frame were the type that could only be released by someone else, and he made no effort to struggle against them. He listened passively as Theroux went through a formal reading of the arrest warrant. “…accessory after the fact in the murder of Auguste Goff. You are further charged that on that date you murdered Liam Brownly. These charges are not exclusive and do not preclude further charges being brought. Do you understand?”
Butler nodded. Theroux read on, “Nothing you say will be noted to be used in evidence until recording and representation have been arranged. Do you understand?”
Again Butler nodded. Theroux folded the wa
rrant and handed it to Nathan who said, “Right then, we’ll leave you to get some rest.”
Butler yawned. “You’ll never prove I killed Brownly,” he said.
Theroux said, “We’ll prove it.”
“If he was crazy enough to kill his best friend and hide his body –”
“With your help.”
“You’re not serious.”
“You knew exactly where that body was. You sent me right to it.”
“Lucky guess, David old thing. And I repeat, if he was crazy enough to do all that, who knows what else he was capable of?”
“He wasn’t crazy enough to commit suicide feet first in the waste disposal,” said Theroux.
“Are you sure?”
Nathan interrupted before Theroux could give any more free information to the prisoner. “We’re sure,” he said. “Let’s go, David.”
“I don’t see what he expected to gain from it,” Theroux said as they made their way to a table in the mess.
“Time maybe,” said Nathan, “who knows?”
“Yeah, yeah, motive’s always the difficult part.”
“And not always necessary. If they did it and you can prove they did it…” He sat, and settled down to eat. He was hungry now, and for the moment he had forgotten to feel nauseous.
Theroux said, “Shouldn’t we make the effort, at least?” He looked tired and depressed. “If we don’t understand, what hope is there?”
Nathan thought about saying that he understood how he must be feeling, betrayed by a friend, but then decided it was none of his business. Besides, he probably didn’t understand how he must be feeling. He said instead, “I’m not sure but I think he was probably hoping I’d be suspected of killing both Brownly and Goff. Everybody knew I’d had a fight with them. Maybe I was another victim of cabin fever. Maybe afterwards I went outside and killed myself. It would have been neat. Discredit my investigations, get him off the hook, maybe even earn him a bonus from whichever multinational is behind it all…”
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