“Oh no,” Kenzy said, shaking her head and smiling sardonically. “You think I just rode over the rim on a sputnik?”
Nathan said flatly, “You’re fired, Kenzy.”
She moved to face him, a direct challenge. “You can’t,” she said. “Not on evidence like that, you can’t. Some small-time crim sets out to smear my good name?”
“With some success, wouldn’t you say?” Nathan snapped, getting a jolt of angry pleasure when he saw the thrust go home.
“Don’t get toffee-nosed with me, you stuck up pommy bastard.”
Was that how his accent went when he was angry? Nathan thought, clipped and pseudo middle-class?
“Listen, you one-minute wonder,” Kenzy raged on, “I was stringing him along so I could add attempting to bribe an officer to all the other counts I’d got him on.”
“And very convincing you were too, ex-officer Kenzy,” a voice said from the doorway. It was the voice from the recording – only now it was confident, cheerful even. Kenzy turned slowly to confront a large plump man, whose narrow eyes belied a chubby grin. “You set me up,” she said.
“Doesn’t take much doing, when they’re as greedy as you are,” he said.
Kenzy said, “I should’ve known those bloody eye shades weren’t kosher.”
“They’re good, aren’t they?” he said taking the fashionable sun glasses from his coverall pocket and pointing out the eye-focused video system incorporated in the frames.
“This is Inspector Devis,” Nathan said. “One of the more recent recruits.”
“I was formerly Detective Chief Inspector Devis. Till my sergeant got me into bother.” He smiled with evident satisfaction. “She’s due for sentencing quite soon, I believe.”
Nathan said, “And unless you want to find yourself in a similar situation, I suggest you get the first available shuttle back to Earth.”
Kenzy closed up the gun case. “Oh, don’t worry, I intend to. There’s some people in Canberra who’ll be really interested in how you’re running things out here.”
“Goodbye, Kenzy.”
“Don’t count on it, Spring,” she said, and left the office without a backward glance.
Devis watched her go. “Not a bad looking woman, for all that,” he said when the negative pressure double door – a constant reminder that the office was just a surplus laboratory – closed behind her.
Nathan thought, not as beautiful as Lee. Never as beautiful as Lee again.
“Nice tight little arse,” Devis said to Theroux. “Sorry we haven’t been introduced. Not properly. Colin Devis. We did meet briefly.”
Theroux ignored his outstretched hand. “Yeah. I processed your documentation. When I passed you for the Coral Sun I had no idea who you were.” He looked at Nathan. “Were you testing me as well?”
“I can tell you he was straight as a die. No hint of gummy digits,” Devis said.
“Listen Jack,” Theroux said angrily. “When I need a character reference I’ll call you okay?”
Devis’ eyes narrowed to slits, the smile disappeared and he straightened up to become a much more imposing figure. “It’s Colin, not Jack,” he said.
Nathan said, “Give us a couple of minutes, will you Colin?”
Devis nodded, and relaxed a little. “Word of advice, David,” he said. “Nobody loves a smart arse. Least of all me.” As he left the office, he was wondering aloud, “Have I blown my chances with Kenzy, do you think? I suppose a fuck’s out of the question now…”
Nathan waited until he and Theroux were alone, and then said, “Get it off your chest.”
Theroux was furiously angry. “Don’t patronize me, you supercilious bastard.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You couldn’t tell me, could you? You couldn’t trust me.”
“You never believed she was bent.”
“I didn’t realize it was a condition of employment,” Theroux said bitterly.
“I needed a clean approach,” Nathan said – and thought, I could have put that better.
“And you thought I’d give your grubby little scheme away.”
Stung, Nathan snapped, “Alright, that’s enough. I meant what I said. There’s going to be no corruption,” and thought immediately, that helped a lot.
“There’s gonna be no Star Cops,” Theroux said.
“I run this outfit and I do it according to my own lights,” Nathan said.
“And alone.” Theroux pivoted on his heel, and control-hopped a long looping stride to the door.
“David,” Nathan said sharply, making him turn back. “Sometimes those lights aren’t as bright as they should be.” He took a small leather wallet from his workstation locker and tossed it in Theroux’s direction. “Sue me.” The throw was not particularly accurate. It would take more practice before Nathan could be spontaneous in one-sixth G, and he was mildly irritated to see that Theroux had mastered the lunar professional’s control-hop and was moving effortlessly to where the wallet was falling short of its target.
Looking at the badge and ID, Theroux asked, “What is it?”
“Your promotion came through. You did a good job on the Dædalus case. You’re now officially my second-in-command.”
“I didn’t know you planned to promote me.” Theroux examined the badge without any obvious enthusiasm.
“Chief Superintendent. Big jump from Inspector,” said Nathan and when Theroux continued to look unconvinced, added, “It’s a helluva good pension,” and waited with the beginnings of irritation.
“Who lives long enough for a pension?” Theroux said finally, and pocketed the wallet.
Nathan found he was vastly relieved that Theroux hadn’t rejected the promotion out of hand; somehow that would have undermined him completely. With Lee gone, there was only the job left and if someone threw that back at him there’d be nothing. With Lee gone. Unless there had only ever been the job. Unless that was how Lee came to see him, finally. Too late to think about that. All of it too late. “Get Colin back, will you?” he said. “I want him to find out exactly who produces that gun.”
“I thought we weren’t interested.”
“We weren’t interested in her gun. But that gun is just what we need.”
Theroux control-hopped to the door. “She’s probably got shares in the company, you realize.”
Nathan shrugged, and said without smiling, “You can carry principle too far.”
Theroux opened the first part of the door. “I never know when you’re serious and when you’re joking,” he complained, as he stepped on the pressure pad to release the second part. In the corridor outside, Devis was unselfconsciously hopping backwards and forwards like a tourist. Theroux gestured at him to come back.
“When in doubt, don’t smile,” Nathan said.
“Don’t smile?” Devis asked as he shambled in.
Theroux smiled and said, “It’s the secret of advancement in the Star Cops.”
“Useful to know. What’s next, then?” He looked at Nathan. “There was an Officer Hubble you wanted sorted, yes?”
Nathan yawned. “You and Chief Superintendent Theroux can handle that one. I’ve got a more urgent priority.”
Devis nodded to Theroux. “Congratulations. That makes you two-I-C, I suppose. Do I call you ‘sir’?”
“David’ll do.”
“Just so long as you remember that when you’re pissed off with me.”
“I’m going to get my head down,” Nathan said. “I am knackered.”
When he had gone Devis said, “The urgent priorities of rank, eh, David?”
Theroux wondered if the informality was going to turn out to be a mistake.
Devis flexed his shoulders. “I could do with some sleep myself, mind,” he went on.
<
br /> “Ever have one of those days when nothing goes your way, Colin?” Theroux asked.
“Frequently.”
“I think you’re having another one.”
Nathan stepped out of the mist shower clean, dry and regretting that he couldn’t have a proper bath. He scooped up his coveralls and hurried from the ablutions unit into the bright corridor which led to the sleep block where he had been allocated a cell. No-one ever put their clothes back on to make this short trip and Nathan knew that to do so would be inappropriate behaviour, best avoided in the narrow confines of off-Earth living. He concentrated on moving more slowly. When you’re nervous, do everything as slowly as you can bear to, his father had told him once, self-conscious people move too quickly and that makes them conspicuous, which is exactly what they’re trying to avoid. He remembered being surprised that his father knew he was shy. He remembered too thinking that one day he’d be a grown-up and relaxed and confident just like his father was. It took a long time to realize that nothing was going to change, that all he could hope for was to hide his feelings well enough to look relaxed and confident… just like his father was. Now he successfully covered his embarrassment at public nakedness and routinely gave no clue that the casual intimacies of communal living made him uncomfortable. So he did not allow his pleasure that the other eight sleep cells in the stack were already sealed to show, and he resisted the impulse to hurry the last few yards to privacy.
Slow and deliberate, he climbed up to the number seven tube and crawled inside. As he pulled the hatch closed behind him, the light and the air-conditioning, pre-set to his preference, came on automatically. He shoved his coveralls and his slippers into the personal effects drawer and sat back on the sleeping couch, leaning against the gel-filled padding which slowly adjusted itself to his position.
The design theory was that your sleep cell was somewhere you could feel totally secure and relaxed. In the unrelentingly hostile lunar environment everyone needed such a place. Even crater bunnies, the hardened professionals for whom the Moon was home, needed relief from the constant background stress. The cells were basically steel tubes which had built in to them a measure of self-contained life-support, protection against disastrous decompression in other parts of the base. The diameter of each one was not quite large enough to let a man stand up, but they were fully upholstered, provided with snacks and drinks dispensers, an entertainments centre, and an all-enveloping video projection system – virtual reality was too isolating – which, with a little imagination, took you to wherever the library had on file. In the sleep cells. nostalgia for Earth could be soothed, yearning for the childhood planet could be calmed. Universally, the sleep cell was known as ‘a womb with a view’…
Nathan opened the drawer again and disentangled Box from the discarded coverall. He propped it up at the foot of the couch and said, “Box, there are days I feel as though I’ve missed every trick.”
Box answered him in the voice which was identical to his. “And today was like that?” it asked.
“Since Lee died, they’ve all been like that. I’m not as fast or as clear as I was.”
“Tomorrow is another day,” Box said.
“When did I programme you for platitudes?”
“The programme merely reflects a slightly degraded version of your own speech patterns,” Box said, telling him what he already knew and reminding him that what he was really doing was talking to himself.
“Access the history data bank and find me a reference to the Black Hand Gang.”
“Is there a cross-reference?”
“Anarchists.”
“Checking.”
“The BHG is supposed to be an anarchist splinter group.”
“Supposed to be?”
“There’s remarkably little information about it.”
“It is a secret organization, perhaps.”
“It has enormous power focused on it, and yet it remains hidden.”
“What power?”
“Technology.”
“You have said: ‘The more powerful the technology, the smaller the error needed to defeat it’.”
“You’re right about the platitudes.”
“You have also said: ‘people are too unreliable to be successfully replaced by machines’.”
“I hope I only said all this crap to you.”
“The Black Hand Gang was a criminal organisation formed in the United States of America around 1868. Do you require a detailed history?”
“Was it political?”
“It is not listed as political.”
“Not anarchist?”
“No. The Black Hand were Spanish anarchists repressed in 1883.”
“Not the Black Hand Gang. If they’ve named themselves for the wrong outfit how bright can they be?”
“How bright must they be?”
“Bright enough to avoid being found by Dr. Chandri’s machines. Box, please see what you can find out about Dr. Michael Chandri that isn’t in his base personnel file.” Nathan stretched out on the couch. He felt ready to sleep. Maybe this time the dreams would not be so drab. “Have it ready for me when I wake up.”
“You have completed your thinking?”
It would be nice to think so, Nathan thought and said, “Shut up, Box.” Briefly he considered trying to get to sleep without help, but then couldn’t see the point of it, and cued the cell’s video. “Sleepcircuit.” The light began a slow fade to twilight paleness. “Seascape,” he instructed, “sunset, small waves lapping a shingle beach.” Dreamlike, the gloom resolved itself into a view of perfect unspoilt coast, the half-remembered picture of some childhood holiday. The system filled the tube so that wherever Nathan turned to look the illusion was coherent, and a new refinement which linked the air conditioning to a fragrance dispenser brought a hint of the salt and seaweed taste to his nose. He lay watching for a moment and his vision blurred with tears. “I miss you,” he said, and closed his eyes. “I miss you Lee.” The sound and smell of the ocean continued to wash over him as the sensors waited for him to fall asleep.
When the UK air-traffic control computer went down, all four London airports managed to avoid casualties thanks to the quick thinking of the four duty controllers at Heathrow Central. Diverting incoming flights. However. overloaded French, Dutch and Irish airspace resulting in two mid-air collisions and five landing accidents of which three were without survivors. All four British controllers saw the words: Has – found – out – thy – bed followed, just after all machine function ceased, by: Has – found – out – thy – bed – of – crimson – joy.
“How does it feel to be back on Earth?” Nathan asked from the screen.
Devis reduced the illumination in the tollbooth. He was fairly sure he looked like shit. The previous night’s session had been uninhibited and the booze had not mixed well with the shuttle-lag medication. Still, with Corman going down for a seven, old colleagues expected to celebrate – and so, come to that, did he. “I’m sorry?” he asked, playing for time without really being sure why – except that he doubted whether his new boss would sympathize with a sod of a hangover which Star Cops expenses had paid for.
“I said, how does it feel to be back on Earth?”
“It’s exhausting. You forget how bloody heavy you are down here,” Devis said, thinking not bad, Colin, not bad for an old and seriously liquidized brain.
“At least the scenery’s green.”
“So’s vomit.”
Theroux stuck his head into the field of vision. “Very poetic, Colin,” he said. “Good party, was it?” Then he ducked away, leaving Nathan staring expressionlessly.
Fuck.
“Listen, was there something in particular you wanted? Only I haven’t closed the deal yet and I don’t want to give their sales guy too long to think about the discou
nt he’s been offering.”
Nathan nodded. “I want you to double the order.”
“A hundred guns? Did somebody declare war out there?”
A shrug. “We need more people.”
“You planning to invade Poland or what?” Devis said suddenly feeling better. A discount now looked like a definite possibility. “Hey, how would you feel about my taking a small commission on the deal?”
Still expressionless Nathan said, “Short one inspector.”
That’s what I thought, thought Devis and said, “Just a thought.”
“Do the business and get back, all right? We’re spread a bit thin out here.”
“You will keep sacking people.”
Nathan smiled for the first time. “Yes. Bear it in mind.”
Devis called up the Moon shuttle times and downloaded the schedule onto his wrist-sec. “I’ll catch the next shuttle,” he said, adding, “Incidentally, you do realize who developed the original of this gun, don’t you?”
“Should I?”
“Word is, it was your mate Chandri. The guy with the useless information about hijackers?”
Nathan looked mildly surprised. “Score one for the man who reveres all life,” he said.
Devis was pleased with the reaction. “Rich boy makes good, eh?” He grinned. “Is that it?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“See you then.”
Devis was still smiling that narrow-eyed chubby smirk of his when he broke the connection. Nathan turned from the communication screen. Box hadn’t found anything in Michael Chandri’s records about weapons development. Michael wasn’t the technology buff.
“It was Chandri’s father who was the inventor in the family,” Theroux remarked, as if speaking the thought. “Or did I miss something?” He was watching a news update on the UK’s latest computer disaster. At least one cameraman had managed to get sexy footage of airliners plunging from the sky and this was being replayed, or so it seemed, on whatever pretext the station editor could think of: “…at this time the problem seems confined to the United Kingdom, quite why this should be is as much of mystery as precisely how it’s happening.”
Star Cops Page 35