‘Then why all this? What’s this to HDA?’
‘Her defence,’ Vance said. Another file expanded over the wallscreen into a paused AV image showing a courtroom with Angela Tramelo in the dock, flanked by two guards. ‘This is her reaction to the guilty verdict; it explains quite a lot.’
The recording started to play. Angela was struggling against the hold the guards had her in, shouting furiously. The camera zoomed in on her beautiful face as it contorted with rage. ‘No!’ she shrieked. ‘No no no, I didn’t kill anybody. Why won’t you listen, you stupid fucks. Listen to me! The alien did it. The monster. Do you understand? It ripped them apart. I swear it—’ The image froze again, catching Angela’s mouth open, spittle flying.
‘She repeats that same claim for five minutes while she’s dragged out,’ Vance said. ‘In fact, she never stopped claiming it.’
‘An alien monster?’ Ian asked quietly.
‘That’s what she said. That was her entire defence. But, of course, we all know there are no aliens on St Libra. No animals of any kind. The planet’s evolution is botany only. And as we’ve never encountered anything remotely like she described in the century since the first trans-space connection was made to Proxima Centuri, it was clearly a ludicrous alibi concocted out of desperation. So we believed.’
‘Then why did HDA classify information about the blade weapon?’ Eva asked.
‘Because it was never found,’ Vance said. ‘And it was . . . odd, as you all know from your own case. Theoretically, Angela’s frenzy strength would be adequate to drive the five blades in. But that whole contraction thing, shredding the heart. A living claw-hand could theoretically cause that kind of damage. But what creature has one? We couldn’t be sure she was lying, and the one thing humanity cannot afford is another hostile species out there. So we investigated as best we could at the time. Nothing came of it, so HDA also assumed she was guilty as well as delusional. A real basket case who had just enough smarts left to throw whatever nasty weapon she’d concocted over a cliff while she was running.’
Ian had sat on the edge of a desk, eyes narrowed as he gazed at Angela’s manic features looming over all of them. ‘What kind of monster was it? Did she say? Did she describe it?’
‘Yes, which was the primary cause for disbelief at the time. She said it looked humanoid, which is ridiculous, because evolution simply doesn’t work that way. And it certainly doesn’t twice produce two legs, two arms, one head; same height as a man – again, her description. The only difference was its skin, which was, and I quote: leather turned to stone.’
‘Man in a powered armour suit,’ said Eva. ‘That would even explain the human-style fingerblades.’
‘Which fits everything,’ Vance agreed. ‘Except motive. Why would anyone do this?’
‘But you accepted she did.’ Ian waved an irritated hand at Angela’s looming face.
‘Angela Tramelo was judged a psychopath, and she was examined by several psychiatrists who all concurred. That is the only human motivation which fits for such a barbarity.’
‘She’s the psychopath, or the man in the power suit?’
‘There was never a shred of evidence he existed. And how did she survive? The only one out of the entire household on the seventh floor that night. Nobody else survived an encounter.’
‘She ran,’ Eva said. ‘That’s what I would do. I mean, you caught her while she was running, didn’t you?’
‘Doesn’t compute,’ Vance said flatly. ‘She said she fought the monster, then ran. Never changed that aspect of her story, stuck by it the whole time. An eighteen-year-old female going mano a mano with a hydraulically powered suit? One that has knives for fingers? And while we’re on improbables: why did she run all the way back to Earth?’
‘Very scared?’ Ian said, but not convincingly.
‘She didn’t even call the local police,’ Vance said.
‘She fought the monster?’ Sid asked; he hadn’t been told that last night. ‘Were there any injuries? As you say, she was a teenage girl back then.’
Vance gave him a sharp look, unhappy by being questioned by someone he thought was on side. ‘There were no injuries, certainly nothing that would indicate a scrap like that – no cuts, no stab wounds. Check the arrest report. It was made here in Newcastle by this very force, I believe.’
Which was about the worst guarantee of quality you could get; but Sid held his opinion on that one.
‘So you think there is a monster on the loose?’ Ian asked with extreme scepticism. ‘An alien one?’
‘There are some disturbing unknowns,’ Vance said. ‘The identical murder of a North here in Newcastle last Friday does open up a highly embarrassing question over Angela Tramelo’s conviction. If, and it is a colossal if, she did not perform the original slaughter, we are back to asking: who or what did? So, people, we have a choice of two. Either it was a psychopath with a grudge against the Norths, who has built himself a power armour suit with horror-drama fingers, and has now returned for the second round. Or . . .’
‘Alien monster,’ Sid said.
‘Walking round Newcastle on a Friday morning,’ Ian said scathingly. ‘Aye man, do you think it stopped off for a burger first, maybe? Kind’a build up some energy, ready for the big slaughter rematch? Crap on this.’
‘You will not crap on this,’ Vance said in a coldly menacing tone. ‘You will take it very seriously indeed. HDA needs to know just what the hell went down in this piss-poor excuse for a town last weekend. We have got to know if there is another sentient species out there intent on doing us harm. So, Detective Second Grade Lanagin, you will perform your duty to the best of your moronic ability, you will find out what went on here right under your inadequate nose last week, and you will find out if this is the start of the end of our entire species. Failure to comply, failure to give this task one hundred per cent of your utter devotion will result in me charging you with genocidal endangerment and collaboration with an enemy of humanity. For which, in case you don’t know, the death penalty still applies; even here in your screwed-up liberal Grande Europe. Do we fully understand each other, now?’
Ian was glaring furiously at the HDA agent. Sid pointed a single warning finger at him, fearful he’d actually try to throw a punch.
‘Where do you think it came from?’ Lorelle Burdett asked.
Vance didn’t take his eyes from Ian. ‘Excuse me?’
‘If this thing is an alien, then I’m sorry, but Ian is right. How did it get here? There’s no way it can come through the gateway. The European Border Directorate has really strict reviews in place for people and cargo. Any refugee can walk across to St Libra without any questions, but it’s a one-way street. Coming back is difficult. There’s no way an alien, even a human-shaped one, could just sneak through to Earth.’
‘We’re going to be reviewing imported cargo as part of our expanded investigation,’ Sid told her. He didn’t like the amount of hostility and scepticism building in the office. The team had arrived expecting to be shat on by a grubby little political appointee, courtesy of the Norths; not be totally screwed by a paranoid spook who believed they were facing an alien Armageddon.
‘You will be granted every gateway security record you want for review,’ Aldred said. ‘There are some pretty stringent precautions against people smuggling applied here. Grande Europe has quite the bug up its arse when it comes to St Libra. Europe, and every other Earth nation for that matter, has managed to offload a whole load of political undesirables on the St Libra independencies, and nobody wants them back. Northumberland International scans all crates and boxes coffin-sized or larger; and we also perform random physical searches as well. It’s effective – we have electromagnetic scanners, X-ray, airborne chemical sampling, and good old-fashioned sniffer dogs. We have to be serious about it, because if anyone gets through we’re hit with a huge fine, and I’m talking over ten million Eurofrancs for each incident. On the plus side, there’s not too much for us to examine. The only real i
mport from St Libra is bioil; because of its size the planet has no heavy metal ore in its crust, so it has bugger-all industry. Now this is all fine for snagging people, but if we are talking about an alien packaged up in some crate, our standard precautions clearly didn’t catch it.’
‘We can only go on Angela’s description that it was man-sized, and though it pains me to admit it, she has no reason to lie,’ Vance said. ‘Therefore our conclusion is that if it is real it had to come through on the cargo route.’
‘Okay,’ Sid said, moving to stand in front of the screen so that Angela’s face formed a snarling backdrop. ‘For all the weird elements in play here, we’re still left with a basic murder to solve. So first off, I’d really like a positive identity on our victim. Ari, Abner; you two carry on with that, please. Now Agent Elston has promised that he’s going to lean on Brinkelle’s people to thoroughly check out all their 2Norths, we might open up some new possibilities.’
‘I have to say it’s unlikely,’ Aldred said. ‘All Bartram’s offspring, the 2s, are now quite old. None were born after Brinkelle herself, which makes the youngest of them fifty-one. That means there are no 2Norths on St Libra that match the victim’s age of mid-forties.’
‘That Bartram’s family has yet admitted to,’ Vance interjected. ‘Commissioner Passam is flying to Abellia today to talk to Brinkelle directly. We may yet have some evidence on that front. After all, Bartram was still sugar-daddying those girls right up until his death.’
‘Until anything extra turns up, we run a more thorough check on the 2Norths we do know about,’ Sid said. ‘Chase that imposter theory for me.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Ari said.
‘Dedra and Reannha, I’m going to assign you to the cargo,’ Sid told them. ‘There’s a lot of datawork correlation there, just your field. Start with a review of every piece in our size-bracket and above which came through the gateway in the two weeks prior to the murder, and prioritize those addressed locally. Once you have the item logged, call the company directly for verification that their delivery was intact. And when you do that, talk to a human – I don’t want a smartnet response.’
‘Yes boss.’
‘That leaves the rest of us with the most important aspect: the riverside bodydump site. I’ll be leading this part of the investigation personally. We identified eleven possible sites yesterday, which will be examined on an individual basis by one of us. Last night I had each site cordoned off by agency constables. They don’t know why, and they never will. Remember that, please. Ian, Eva, Lorelle, and myself will each take out a forensics team this morning; we’re going to sweep through each and every site to find some evidence of a body being dumped. I cannot emphasize enough how vital this part of the process is. We have got to find this place. Once we do, the rest is standard datawork.’
With the team starting their assignments, Sid went into his office with Vance and Ralph. Through the glass he could see Ian shaking his head in dismay as he grumbled to Eva. Aldred was settling in with Reannha and Dedra, routing them into the Northumberland Interstellar security network.
‘I can get Abner taken off if you like,’ Vance began. ‘One call to O’Rouke.’
‘Why would I want that?’ Sid asked.
‘The man can’t even open a file. He’s your chief forensics analyst? Come on!’
‘Aye man, he’s just had his brother murdered. Give him a moment.’
‘I can’t afford screw-ups, Sid. Nobody can, not on this one.’
‘There won’t be any. If he doesn’t step up, I’ll kick him out myself.’
‘I will hold you to that.’
‘We’ll have the bodydump site by this afternoon,’ Sid promised recklessly. ‘After that it’s going to get easier.’
‘Explain.’
‘The gap itself might not provide any information, but we can still watch who went in and out of it. They can be identified and better still, backtracked through the city’s meshes. But I’ve got to tell you, Ian has a point. If there was an alien on the loose, then it would have been sighted. This is the age of total digitalization; everything is on line always.’
‘Uh huh, and that’s why our politicians are pure and clean, and the world works so well, is it? Because everybody knows everything and there’s no hiding place.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘There are things going on, Detective, which you have no idea about. Think yourself lucky about that. So now you just focus on your job, and find me some evidence; either that some nut-job has built himself a power suit in his basement and is targeting the Norths, or that we have ourselves one serious trans-stellar crisis.’
‘Right.’
Vance studied him for a moment, making a judgement. ‘I’m heading out to the local HDA base. You won’t see me again, leastways not here. Ralph is your contact now. Clear?’
‘Sure.’
‘Make it good,’ Vance said as he shook hands with Ralph.
Sid let out a long breath as Vance walked out through the office, not acknowledging any of the team as he passed them.
‘Sorry about that,’ Ralph said.
Sid was mildly surprised to see a sly smile on the man’s face. ‘Jesus, man.’
‘He plays hardass because that’s his way,’ Ralph said. ‘He thinks it shows his strength. He’s right in a way. That’s why he bitchslapped your guy out there. Just making everyone aware who the top dog is.’
‘It isn’t going to earn him any friends here.’
‘He’s not looking for friends. And, Sid, neither am I. This has been booted all the way up to General Shaikh himself. You have heard of General Shaikh, haven’t you?’
‘Aye. I know who he is.’
‘Good. Then you truly understand how critical this situation is.’
‘I think I’m getting there.’
*
The HDA maintained a large base close to every gateway on Earth in readiness for a Zanthswarm. Newcastle was no exception. The offices and barracks and primary staging area were situated in the Shipcote district, south of the river, exhibiting the kind of harsh brutalism which even Soviet architecture had eventually retreated from with an embarrassed shudder. Squatting atop the high ground, rigid concrete walls inset with narrow windows and topped by sophisticated sensors looked down on the unruly sprawl of Last Mile below like some stolid medieval castle dominating the hovels of the serfs.
Of course, as every Geordie knew from birth, it was just for show; if St Libra did ever have a Zanthswarm, the HDA and Grande Europe would simply slam the gateway shut. Nobody was going to dispatch wave after wave of humanity’s finest to defend a world which housed nothing but corporate drones and bunches of malcontents.
Once he was installed in his new standard-military-issue office, Vance stared through the armoured glass window at the crawl of vehicles and even some pedestrians worming out of the end of Last Mile to the huge rectangular concrete burrow which housed the gateway machine. The end which faced Last Mile, the gateway itself, resembled a vertical pool of mist, writhing with silver phosphorescence. Only the upper third was actually visible to Vance, where a metal bridge-like ramp rose up from Last Mile to push its way into the trans-spacial connection, allowing free access to St Libra. Hidden below the elevated road was the narrow return lane, delivering all arrivals directly to the Border Directorate terminal. But underneath that, and taking up a good half of the gateway, were the twelve massive bioil pipelines that quickly sloped down into the underground tunnels, which led away to storage depots along the east coast and the Inter-Europe distribution grid. Billions of Eurofrancs’ worth of harvested hydrocarbons were pumped through each day; helping to satisfy some of the voracious energy demand exerted by Grande Europe and its settled planets.
Only now, looking at the phenomenal enterprise, did Vance fully acknowledge the scale of responsibility that had settled on him. Protecting something of this magnitude and value from a vague yet persistent alien threat was something he could not, would not, shirk away from
. He touched the small pin in his suit collar, rough skin rubbing the familiar outline. ‘I have looked upon Zanth, and saw the face of the devil,’ he whispered. It was the Lord who had brought him and Angela together twenty years ago. He knew that now. That simple encounter hadn’t been fate, because today it had brought clarity to his life. This was why he had been born, this was the task his Lord had given him. ‘I will be worthy, Jesus.’
The aural smartcells embedded in his ears bleeped, communication icons appearing in his grid. He told his e-i to quest the link. The conference screen opposite his desk showed the HDA top-secret logo, which promptly dissolved into General Khurram Shaikh. At sixty-two his hair was a short silver-fox cut atop a round face weighted by stress lines. He was dressed immaculately as always, appearing completely unruffled by the strange event in Newcastle. Vance did his best not to try and work out what time it was at Alice Springs. Part of the mystique surrounding Shaikh was his apparent permanent availability. Rumour had it he never slept, wilder rumour said there were three North-like clones of him working shifts.
‘Good morning, Colonel,’ General Shaikh said.
‘Sir.’
‘An eventful night in your part of the world, apparently.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We were beefing up the quantum field sensor coverage around Newcastle anyway, because of the gateway. This adds a sense of urgency to it.’
‘Sir, this really doesn’t look like a Zanth event.’
‘No. But then we don’t understand the Zanth. And if it isn’t Zanth, then my strategists are assigning St Libra as the most likely origin of the creature. That’s if it was a creature which did this.’
‘It may be a human, a lone psychopath killing off Norths. At least this time we can launch a decent investigation.’
‘Yes. There’s a lot depending on the Newcastle police doing a good job. You need to keep the pressure on.’
‘It’s being done, sir.’
‘Good. In the meantime, my strategists believe the most likely scenario is that the Norths have suppressed the fact that St Libra does have sentients. That way Northumberland Interstellar was free to develop their algaepaddies. Without them, the company would’ve been bankrupt from building the gateway.’
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