Inquisitor (5 page)

On the landing of floor seventeen, she paused, breathing lightly from her exertions. Someone was following her. The footsteps were light, but there was a purposefulness to them. They’d been keeping pace with her, and she’d been climbing quickly, so it wasn’t someone else who’d decided not to wait for the elevators. The footsteps grew louder, then a door a few levels down opened, closed, and the stairwell was silent.

Huh. She was getting paranoid after what happened to Jessica. Angel shook her head and continued up to floor twenty-seven.

“Viktor!” she yelled, and pounded on his door. She pressed the buzzer again and again. Another check of her implants confirmed he hadn’t returned her messages and hadn’t checked in to the local Inquisitor station.

Something was wrong. She bit her bottom lip.

Angel drew her hand-cannon and ducked against the wall to the side of the door. Her implants meshed with the locking mechanism and overrode the controls. The door snicked open a few centimeters. Inside was dark, except for faint flashes of light splashing the walls. Likely the display wall was on.

Angel stretched one leg out and toed the door open further. Nothing happened. She squeezed off a few rounds of flea-grenades. These were Inquisitor-only, sensitive to their unique implants, and if Viktor were inside, they wouldn’t trigger near him. They jumped around the apartment just like their namesake, but there were no explosions.

Angel breathed a sigh of relief, unaware she’d been holding her breath. She scurried inside the apartment, hand-cannon extended. It was empty. Empty except for Viktor’s body lying in a pool of blood on the carpet in front of his synthetic leather couch. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. His clothes had been shredded, revealing his tanned skin. Splashes of scarlet stained his crotch and thighs, and there was something red in his mouth. Dribbles of blood trailed down his cheeks. On his chest was a raised red welt about the same size as his nipple. Most likely from a portable nerve disruptor. Angel squinted. And one of his eyes was… deflated, as if the vitreous humor had been extracted.

A half-empty bottle of local beer sat on a table, with an empty one lying on the floor. On a wall, a local sports channel with muted sound was replaying a game from yesterday. She was sure Viktor had mentioned interest in one of the teams that was participating.

Angel swallowed. Another partner killed. Gods, he was a mess. Poor bastard had only been out of the academy for a year. She should have told him to be more careful. He should have been on some bustling station inspecting cargo permits, not—

Angel’s feet shifted uneasily. Someone was trying to derail their case, didn’t want them investigating. It was as clear as day to her… It looked like they’d go to any lengths to interfere.

Angel triggered an emergency response and moved to one wall. She leaned against it then slid down to the floor, where she intended to stay, still gripping her hand-cannon.

•

Angel, in a freshly pressed dark Inquisitor shirt and jacket, made her way to one of the zero-sound communication rooms at the local law enforcement offices they—she—was working out of. Heads turned, and she put a forbidding expression on her face to discourage contact. She tried to swallow and couldn’t—another partner killed. Angel ignored the stares and kept her gaze lowered. Interoffice hubbub and whispers mercifully cut to silence as the door closed and locked.

She brushed away lint and straightened the jacket. Dress up for a dressing down, they always said. She moved to the table and looked at her reflection in the glass surface. She frowned, rubbed her eyes, then looked away.

No point delaying it. Angel’s implants sent a signal. She sat in one of the chairs and leaned back, and she waited. A minute later the image of Chief Inquisitor Valgeir appeared on the display wall, his face as dour and wrinkled as usual. Overhead lights reflected off his bald head. Angel stopped chewing her thumbnail and sat up.

“Sir,” she said. “I’m here to brief you on the—”

“Another dead partner, Inquisitor Xia?”

Angel bit her tongue to prevent any excuses leaving her lips. Valgeir wouldn’t care. What he wanted was results. “Yes,” was all she said.

“Did you win any credits?”

“Excuse me?”

Valgeir smiled thinly. “In the office pool, to see how long this one would last.”

Heat flooded Angel’s face.
Asshole
. “I didn’t participate.”

“Of course you didn’t. Do you have any idea the trouble this will cause us? Viktor was well connected. This post was meant to be a stepping-stone in his career. The Inquisitors were going to benefit from his rise.”

She brought her head up. “Bad gamble.”

Blood suffused Valgeir’s face. A pulse throbbed on his temple. “I want this mess cleaned up. I see you’ve been looking into the Harry Smith death. Drop it. Focus on the handless man murder. I want whoever killed him caught. I want that case solved and buried as soon as possible. When you get back, we’ll discuss your disciplinary action.”

That sealed it for Angel: Valgeir was in on the cover-up. “With all due respect, I wasn’t responsible for what happened.”
You gave him the rest of the day off.

“You’re careless, and your partners die. No one wants to work with you, despite your rank and record. What does that tell you?”

Maybe she should have given Viktor more guidance. “Everyone hates a winner?” Except Viktor. With his connections, he could have switched partners. Instead, she’d pushed him hard when she should have given him more guidance.

“Don’t be a smart-ass bitch,” snapped Valgeir, spit flying from his mouth. “Wrap this corporate case up and get back here. I’ll keep in touch to make sure you’re not slacking off.”

“I look forward to your guidance, sir.”

Valgeir gazed into her eyes, shaking his head. “You never learn, do you? Life could become quite unpleasant for you.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Do your job, and don’t get anyone else killed. And stay away from Viktor’s case—you’ve caused enough trouble. I’ll have someone I trust handle it.”

Valgeir’s bald head disappeared from the wall, which then went blank. Angel leaned back in her chair and placed her booted feet on the table. She sat there quietly, taking deep breaths, until she felt calm enough to exit the room.

•

She left the Inquisitor offices behind and made her way down to the medical floor. For some reason, they were always underground and devoid of windows. Harsh artificial light illuminated plascrete and stainless steel meticulously scrubbed and sanitized.

What was the forensics investigator’s name?
Andrews
. That was it. A lump formed in her throat as she was reminded of Viktor, who’d recalled the man’s name when she hadn’t. The clip of her booted footsteps echoed around the corridor as she poked her head into every room, looking for him.

There. Andrews was leaning over a cadaver with reddened, blistered skin, which looked like it had been immersed in acid.

“What happened with this one?” Angel said.

Andrews looked up, blinked, then bent back over the body. “Fell into a vat of acid. Industrial accident.”

“Ah. Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

Andrews held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to ask, and I’m ahead of you. Valgeir’s told everyone you’re not on Viktor’s case, but… we all want his killer found.”

Angel nodded. “I want to see the results of—”

A file squirted into her implants. From Andrews. She opened it and glanced at the contents.

“We found fibers at the scene, and hair. But it’s the DNA that’s unusual.”

Angel opened the DNA section and scanned it. “Whenever someone mentions ‘unusual’ DNA, it usually means—”

“Genevolves,” finished Andrews. “It’s hard to say. Some are easier to pick up than others. A lot of discards’ altered DNA splices are dormant. They either wait until they finish testing them, or they have some way—”

“I know most of the Genevolve changes are dormant in discards. What about this DNA?”

“Sorry. There are some peculiarities, but without further testing I can’t give a definitive answer.”

It didn’t matter. Angel already knew what it would be. Something was afoot, and it involved the scattered Genevolves and someone inside Mercurial, and possibly the Inquisitors.

“And there’s one more thing,” continued Andrews. “Cyber Division analyzed the photo frame you found, and they found something hidden inside it.”

Angel’s ears perked up; then she frowned. “What was it? And why wasn’t I notified?”

“Valgeir is restricting access to evidence and the files. It’s not going down well around here. I copied their report—here.”

Data squirted into her implants, and Angel examined the files.

“A miniature disruption device,” she said. “Ah, that’s why the cleaning-bots left it there. They couldn’t see it. And what’s this?”

“There was a data chip concealed as well. Cyber copied its contents—”

“An override program. For what?”

“They don’t know. If you’ll read further, you’ll see it is quite the complex little beast. There are various codes it uses that make no sense to Cyber.”

“Thanks, Andrews. I’ll keep the files and the copy of the override program. Don’t tell Valgeir.”

“I won’t. Just find who did this.”

She gave him the best confident smile she could manage. “I’ll try.”

•

In the two days after her discovery of Viktor’s body, reporters harassed Angel incessantly. Her thoughts kept returning to the mutilation he’d suffered: testicles removed and stuffed in his mouth. The medical report confirmed this had been inflicted on him prior to his death. Indeed, it was likely the shock and blood loss had killed him.

Savages
, Angel thought. Whoever murdered Viktor considered him no more than a piece of meat. And that thought niggled at her…

The reporters, like the vultures they were, shadowed her every move and circled her location whenever she stopped moving, as if jostling for a chance to be there, recording, when a similar fate befell her. Sans the severed testicles.

She had dealt with shitty situations in her time, but this was turning out to be one of the worst: Jessica’s murder while she was at the same table, followed by Viktor’s murder. Valgeir chewing her out. Questions raised as to her culpability. As if she could have done anything to stop either, or had any hint they were about to happen.

She wondered if the reporters were working for Mercurial, harassing her so she didn’t have space to investigate properly.

A storm had been brewing all afternoon. When the rain struck, Angel made sure she was walking down a crowded street in the market district. A deluge of fat raindrops soaked her to the skin in a matter of seconds, while around her the crowd scattered for cover. Angel glanced around at the reporters sheltering close by. A few looked her way, wondering why she hadn’t moved with the rest of the crowd.

She took a deep breath and sprinted across the road, zigzagging in and out of traffic. Behind her, she heard shouts from the reporters. Within a few minutes she had dodged down enough side streets and alleys to rid herself of her unwanted shadows.

She took shelter in the doorway of a shopping complex along with a few other people and wondered again if the inept reporters were working for Mercurial. It was a possibility. Wiping water from her face and shaking herself, she entered the complex and used the restroom to dry her hair and regain her composure. She waited a few minutes, hiding out there longer than necessary, in case someone had managed to follow her.

Angel stepped quickly from her hideout and joined the crowd of shoppers inside, slipping into one of the streams of bodies, then entering what looked to be a popular café. A few rungs down the pretentious ladder from the fateful café of the other night, it should at least offer one less murder. She rubbed her arms, and her uneasy glance roamed over the crowd. Her hands were cold, and she needed to pee. Anyone in here could be out to do to her what they’d done to Viktor.

Ordering a light snack and a caffeinated orange juice, she paid extra for a position at the back, where she could see the other patrons and anyone who entered behind her. After a few minutes, she was satisfied she hadn’t been followed. She breathed a sigh of relief and triggered subvocal communication with her office.

“Angel Xia reporting in.”

The response came a second later. [Inquisitor Xia, what is your location? We have received a number of frantic calls from the local media.]

She recognized the ID and voice as belonging to Margith, one of the more senior agents she was working with. Was she still trustworthy?

“I have no doubt. Location incoming.”
She had her implants squirt an encrypted packet confirming her position.
“Don’t let it get out; those reporters can be annoying.”

[Agreed, but they also serve to keep you safe.]

Angel snorted in disbelief.

[I heard that.]

“Listen, can you do something for me? I need someone to cross-check a list of passengers from a space-plane that landed fifteen years ago.”

[Sure. Cross-check against what?]

“Current locations and communications between them. I want to know where they’re working, where they’re living, if any are living together, and frequency of communications between them. List incoming.”
She squirted another secure packet.

[Received and understood. Shouldn’t take too long.]

“Good. And thank you. As soon as you have the information, squirt it to me.”

[Will do. Angel, you’d better show your face at headquarters soon. The boss is after an update. I think there’s been some pressure from above.]

“Yeah, give me an hour. I want to get a few things from my apartment first.”

[I’ll get right on this list, then.]

She cut communication and looked down at the sandwich she had ordered. She wasn’t hungry but wolfed it down anyway along with the drink. Fifteen minutes later, she entered her apartment.

Where Viktor’s had been modern and plush, Angel had elected for a more utilitarian space. Gone was the carpet, along with the synthetic leather lounge and food dispenser. Her apartment had a bare wooden floor and was empty, apart from a narrow bed she’d moved up against the window overlooking the river. She had disabled the display wall she knew Viktor had been fond of, and her service automaton was a much smaller version, a plate-sized disc on wheels, insatiably sucking dust from the floor. A blue light blinked on the automaton, indicating it had sensed her presence. It scooted off to complete its programmed cleaning cycle.