Fox Hunt (Fox Meridian Book 1) (23 page)

‘Last year he was put on a NAPA security watch bulletin. It’s believed Mister Caravel is now using the nom de plume “Spook” and is highly active in UA circles. The Palladium people I had looking managed to find evidence that Hunt had met with Caravel in Luna City.’

‘Ah, okay. You could have started with that part.’ Fox’s brow furrowed. ‘But is he working for NIX, or UA, or both?’

‘That was not something my people were able to work out.’ Jackson’s attention shifted from the screen to Fox. ‘Palladium was created to handle internal security after Dallas. My business people told me that it was a marketable concept and we would be stupid not to hire out our personnel and equipment to others. I listen to them, as you know, because I
hate
business.’

She flashed him a grin. ‘I’m aware of your preference for staying out of the boardroom.’

‘Indeed. We’ve made modest inroads into the facilities management and site security arenas. Wayden, in particular, have suffered from our expansion into coverage of the protectorate regions.
All
MarTech facilities are now handled by Palladium personnel. We give the best training and equipment.’

‘But?’

‘But we hire for management and security skills which we enhance. We don’t have investigators, aside from a few people who happen to have a little talent for it.’

‘I seem to recall you trying to hire me into Palladium before I joined NAPA.’

‘Your memory is not faulty.’

Fox sighed. ‘I’m not sure I want to be part of the corporate world, Jackson. Maybe it’s my parents, but I think that’s going too far. I got into the military to fight people like this guy, and they shunted me off to the UNTPP but that seemed like a good move. NAPA is still in the public domain, taking down criminals. Palladium Security Solutions… it feels like I’m selling out.’

He nodded a reply. ‘I respect your principles, Fox. Always have. Won’t stop me keeping the position open though.’

~~~

‘Daniel Caravel is noted in NAPA records,’ Kit said into Fox’s head as the latter rode the maglev back toward HQ. ‘As indicated, he has UA associations in the form of three people known to have quite firm UA ties. Andrew Paul Prentice, aka Spinner, was thought to be one of the people responsible for running the MarTech Dallas operation.’

‘I recall the name being mentioned afterwards. Wasn’t he supposed to have been shot?’

‘NIX reported him killed in a drone attack on a UA safe house in Houston two months after the hostage incident. However, there have been indications on the internet that he survived that attack.’

‘Can’t trust NIX to do anything right. Any more associates?’

‘Chelsea Remen, aka Hash, and Mark Killian, aka Marksman. The latter is not especially active on the UA forums and it’s believed his primary interest in the movement is Remen. He is never found far from her. He is also the connection between Donovan Bucksbridge and United Anarchy.’

‘Interesting. I doubt there’s actually a connection between the cases though. I mean, Bucksbridge was just a name that came up.’

‘That is true, Fox. I will continue searching for information on these people. Currently their whereabouts are not known, but I have obtained images of all of them. I will lodge these in your facial recognition database. If any of them cross your path, you will be aware of it.’ There was a short pause and then, ‘Fox, why do so many seem to fall victim to this meme? Why would the concept of anarchy be so popular? Do people not realise that order brings safety?’

Fox smiled, which probably made her fellow passengers wonder what she was up to, but who cared what they thought. ‘You’d probably be better off asking a political science major or a memetics expert. I think the concept of freedom is a strong meme. On the internet, the concept of information freedom has been a rallying call for decades. Getting people to pay for content was a real pain back when internet media was taking off. Some people considered it their
duty
to crack content protection. It was hitting big business where it hurts and giving the power back to the little guy! Of course, the reality was that the little guy couldn’t make a cent off producing anything because it was stolen as soon as they tried. The freedom nuts and survivalists wanted reduced government and personal voting, so we got liquid democracy and minimalised government… which was basically handing everything over to those with money: the corporations and the top one per cent.’

‘Then shouldn’t the anarchists realise that their desires have driven the world away from how they want it?’

‘Religion and politics, Kit. The two things that never stop trying to force themselves on other people, no matter how obvious it is that they’re wrong. Can’t stop the anarchy meme any more than you can stop liberals or conservatives, or Christians, or Muslims, or people who believe we’re going to find life on Mars. You can’t disprove a belief because there’s nothing there to disprove.’

‘I believe I will stick to facts,’ the AI replied, her image smiling in its window.

‘Good plan,’ Fox replied. ‘I just wish I had a few more of them available at the moment.’

Part Six: Keep Your Friends Close

New York Metro, 30
^th
January 2060.

27Lex was just as Fox remembered it: warm, sweaty, bathed in hormones, and swimming in barely perceptible sexual imagery. It was Friday night and Sam had insisted on dragging her out for at least a couple of hours. Fox had a vague feeling that things were not going to go as well as her friend hoped. It was just one of those nagging, niggling irritations at the back of her skull, the feeling you got when you were just waiting for something bad to happen…

‘You look like you were forced here at gunpoint,’ Sam commented as he handed her a glass of wine.

‘Sorry. I’m not really expecting to get through the weekend without another body turning up.’

‘Good, positive attitude. I like it.’

‘It’s difficult to develop a positive attitude when someone’s going around blowing women’s brains out on an alarmingly regular basis. This is why I have friends to take me out of my funk and encourage me to go to clubs where I can be bombarded with phallic imagery.’

Sam’s mouth twisted. ‘It is a little heavy on the cock tonight. I seem to remember more lip last time.’

‘Uh-huh. Full, very red, pursed lips. Maybe they’re hoping to appeal to a wider crowd. Is cock doing more for you than lips?’

‘Oral can be fun, but I’ve never been that fond of anal.’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Honestly, the men who hire me for sex are usually playing at it. If they want penetration, I can usually steer them into letting me be on top. It’s how I prefer it when I have a relationship that
doesn’t
involve money.’ He flicked a glance at her. ‘Is it doing much for you?’

‘No. Cock-selfies went out forty years ago. The peeled banana subliminal is funny, I admit. Anyway, I got some of the real thing recently.’

‘Oh? I haven’t dragged you out when you could be banging hips with someone, have I?’

Fox felt her brow furrow and forced it to relax. ‘No. It was… something that happened. Not saying it won’t again, but I’m not sure it meant anything to either of us aside from releasing some tension.’

‘He’s a cop.’ Sam was making a statement, not asking a question.

‘Yeah. I’m working these homicides with him. He got dumped on me by Canard, but he’s… not terrible.’

‘High praise indeed.’

‘Ex-private security, political appointment as much as skill and talent, but there does seem to be some talent there.’

‘I’m assuming you’re talking about his skills as a policeman rather than his talent in bed?’

Fox smirked. ‘Actually we started out on the lounge carpet. Took us a good forty-five minutes to get to the bed.’

‘This sounds entertaining at least. Come on, more detail. Call it professional interest.’

‘Oh yeah, professional, sure.’

~~~

‘It sounds like the guy’s had some training,’ Sam commented. ‘I mean, without going to bed with him it’s hard to know, but he’s employing a few techniques I was taught.’

‘Huh. Not the kind of thing I’d expect Wayden to be teaching their staff, but you never know, I guess.’

He gave a shrug in reply. ‘Doesn’t sound like you, though. You’re usually more controlled.’ He peered at her, his lips twitching. ‘You’ve never tried to hit on me and I’m gorgeous.’

She returned his grin. ‘You are not nearly as charming as you think you are, Mister Clarion.’

‘I am, and you know it. Not the point. You’re not impulsive. I know you like your men blonde, but it takes more than a cooked meal to get into your pants.’

‘Maybe, but I think it was just–’ She stopped as she saw an emergency interrupt message popping up in-vision. ‘Shit! Need to take this.’

‘Identity verified by implant,’ the monotonous voice stated. ‘Inspector Meridian, immediate attendance required at the Red Night Club in Clayton Tower. Precinct eighteen officers on site. Probable homicide matching your cases. Building lockdown in progress.’

They had locked the building down? Did that mean they might have the killer still at the site? ‘Notify Detective Sandoval, seize all video recordings for the building and transit stations nearby, and get extra backup in from precinct eighteen. I want that tower isolated until we’ve checked
everyone
that’s in there. ETA fifteen minutes.’

‘Confirmed.’

Sam saw her attention return to him and frowned. ‘Your body turned up?’

‘Yeah,’ Fox replied, pulling a SoberUp from the pocket of her shorts, ‘but we might have the bastard trapped.’

~~~

The senior officer on the door at Clayton Tower had his helmet open which meant that Fox saw his eyebrow going up as she marched toward him in her clubbing outfit. She ignored the look and accessed the local police tactical net before speaking.

‘Senior Officer Pullman, situation report, if you would.’

Pullman pulled himself up straight. ‘Reports of gunfire at twenty-two-sixteen. That resulted in the immediate lockdown of the tower’s exterior access points.’

‘Gunfire? More than one shot?’

‘We’ve determined only a single shot from video coverage of the club. Officers were on site at twenty-two-twenty-one.’

‘That’s a very fast response.’

‘Clayton’s all commercial. The lower ten floors are all entertainment so we run a couple of officers on each floor through the high-traffic leisure periods.’

Fox nodded. Precinct 18 contained most of the Manhattan Conservation District and the band of entertainment facilities and shops to the north of it which the rich MCD inhabitants patronised. Making sure those wealthy citizens, many of them politically well placed, were well treated was the job of every NAPA officer in the precinct. ‘Yeah. Go on.’

‘First responders located the body and did an on-the-scene assessment. Victim is one Paulette Avery, licensed for public performance and prostitution, resident in precinct twenty-three.’ His tone fell when he mentioned the 23rd precinct, which was north of 18 and had a lot of Sprawl: somewhere had to house the people who worked for the rich folks. Fox suppressed the urge to punch the man in the nose just for his tone. ‘The cause of death suggested it might be part of your case. We got the VIPs out and called you.’

Fox checked the time. ‘Yes, in that order. You
did
take note of which of your VIPs required extrication, of course?’

Pullman’s expression hardened. ‘We know who was here. None of them would–’

‘Better hope so, Senior Officer, or I’ll personally serve the notice for your arrest on obstruction of justice. I want
everyone
checked as they’re let out.
Full
screening, identities verified
before
they go.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Pullman growled.

‘Now someone can take me up to the crime scene.’

The Red Night Club was, as Fox had expected, a high-end sex venue. Stripping and, later at night, live sex on the main stage, and a number of private rooms off the main floor which could be used for whatever service the clients wanted to pay for. Legally there were limits, but Fox tended to have a low opinion of the people who frequented that kind of place, especially when a lot of them had the money to indulge themselves at home. She had no doubt that the legal limits were stretched past breaking point for the right amount of money, but she doubted the club’s owners went so far as to allow their employees to die no matter what sum was offered.

Paulette Avery had put up more of a fight than the other victims. The room she had died in was a mess: one broken chair, another overturned, a bottle which looked like it had an expensive label lay smashed against a wall. Avery’s body was on the bed, but she had not died there. Blood spatter on the wall beside the door suggested she had been there when she had been shot, but the killer had taken the time to pose her on the bed. Even knowing that the shot had been heard and the cops would be on their way, he had taken that time.

Running the forensics sweep seemed almost like an abuse of public funds. Fox
knew
she would get nothing from the room. Like Hunt’s cabin on the shuttle, this place would be an absolute gold mine of useless clues. Tracking down the depositor of every bit of DNA evidence here would likely take years
and
result in more political heat than a supernova. The eighteenth precinct people had brought up a crime scene unit so she had started the microbots off on the body as soon as she had the basic room scans down, but going further seemed pointless. Instead, she connected through to the club’s surveillance system and pulled up the records for access to the room.

The accounting system, which tracked customers requesting private rooms, had logged ‘George Marsh’ entering with Avery at twenty-two-eleven. She put a request through her VA to have the man’s identity checked and then pulled up the camera data for the hallway outside at that time. And found herself looking at video of an empty corridor.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Sandoval said, appearing beside her in a crime scene suit. ‘Got here as fast as I could. Pullman on the door said they were screening everyone before letting them out. You think he’s still in the building?’