Vigilantes (20 page)

“The coroner just registered a body,” she said quietly. “It’s Torkild Zhu.”

Nyquist frowned. He didn’t know any Torkild Zhu, although the name sounded familiar.

And then the name connected.

It belonged to that overdressed attorney from the day before, the one who had arrived after the division-wide meeting and slapped injunctions against dealing with the Peyti clones all over the department.

“You’re kidding, right?” Nyquist said.

She shook her head. Her gaze held his a moment longer.

“Tell me it was natural causes.”

“Brodeur says he was beaten to death.” She spoke quietly.

Her gaze hadn’t left his face. Nyquist let his shock show.

Then he blinked, and realized exactly what she said. “Brodeur was the coroner on this?”

“Yes,” she said.

“He’s not the best we have,” Nyquist said.

“No,” she said. “Which he knows, and he believes that someone sent him deliberately.”

Nyquist frowned. He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but he didn’t like the sound of it.

“Why would someone do that?” Nyquist asked.

“Because there’s evidence, at least according to Brodeur, that we know the killers.”

Nyquist could tell she was choosing her words carefully.

“How well do we know them?” he asked.

“Brodeur thinks they were cops,” she said softly.

Nyquist sank into a chair. Now he understood why Gumiela had sent for him. He had warned her just yesterday that the attitude among the detectives was dangerous. But he had thought the danger would be against the Peyti clones—that they would die or be injured in custody, and the investigators would lose their best resources for solving the overall crisis on the Moon.

That had been before S
3
had shown up with its injunctions.

Before
Zhu
had shown up with S
3
’s injunctions.

“You believe him,” Nyquist said.

Gumiela’s gaze left his, and in that simple movement he saw her answer. Yes, she believed Brodeur.

“I’m going to give you what we have,” she said. “I want you to investigate this. I want you to document everything you find, and then I want you to report to me.”

“Won’t I need a partner?”

“You should have one,” Gumiela said, “but if Brodeur is right, then you might end up with an assistant who has a personal interest in this case.”

She paused, as if she had an idea that struck her hard.

“You
don’t
have a personal interest in this case yourself, do you?”

He let out a half laugh. “You know me better than that, Andrea. I don’t kill because I dislike someone or because I hate what they stand for.”

Besides
, he thought,
I’m the one who warned you about the mood in the division.

“I know that,” she said. “We wouldn’t even be having this discussion if I thought you were that kind of man. What I’m asking is this: is there anyone in the division you would bend the rules for? Is there anyone whose involvement you would cover up?”

As Gumiela asked that question, DeRicci’s image flashed across his mind. Then, oddly, Flint’s. Clearly, there were people he would deal with on his own if he thought they were acting in an extra-judicial manner, but none of them were on the force.

Any longer, anyway.

“In the division,” he repeated. “That’s what you’re asking?”

“What about in life?” Gumiela asked.

He paused. Truthful or not?

He decided on the truth, partly because he wanted Gumiela to deem him unsuitable and assign someone else to this hellish case.

“I think we all have someone in our lives we’d bend the rules for,” he said quietly.

She leaned back just a little, then a half smile crossed her face. He thought he recognized the look: Gumiela had just thought of the person
she
would bend the rules for.

“In the division, then,” she said. “Is there anyone you would bend the rules for?”

“No,” he said, wishing he could convincingly lie about that too. But he couldn’t, particularly if Gumiela had asked him to come up with a name of someone he would protect.

She took a deep breath.

“All right then,” she said. “You’re going to make this your top priority. You will report directly to me and tell no one what you’re working on. You will consider me and Brodeur your partners in this, and if you need help, you’ll contact one of us.”

“He’s an incompetent jerk,” Nyquist said.

“He’s actually not incompetent,” Gumiela said. “He’s just not as smart as most of our other coroners. And he’s an asshole, so no one really gives him a chance. They undercut him whenever they can.”

“You want me to take someone who gets undercut as a partner on a case that might have the department facing some high-powered attorney from S
3
?” Nyquist asked.

“At the moment, we’re stuck with Brodeur,” Gumiela said. “If you find out that the accusations are true, and if you figure out who the perpetrators are, then we might be able to bring someone else in—someone we trust or someone from outside of Armstrong—to double-check Brodeur’s work. But at the moment, we’ll make do.”

“Can’t we put this off until the crisis is over?” Nyquist asked. He really wanted to see Uzvaan again. Nyquist didn’t want to waste time on investigating this murder at all.

“I’d love to,” Gumiela said. “And you know what? I probably would, if it weren’t for S
3
. They would have been a pain in our behind even if this murder hadn’t happened. The fact that it has is just going to make everything worse. I’m hoping to head off the worst of it.”

“I think it became too late for that when their representative on the Moon got murdered,” Nyquist said.

“You’re probably right,” Gumiela said. “We just didn’t need more on our plate, particularly with S
3
.”

“No matter what, this isn’t going to be easy, is it?” Nyquist asked.

“I can’t imagine how,” she said. “I really can’t imagine how.”

TWENTY-FIVE

DERICCI LET OUT a long, oniony breath. She didn’t care if it grossed Goudkins out. Or maybe she did.

DeRicci stood up.

Once she trusted Goudkins, there was no going back.

Goudkins closed the lid on her food carton and leaned back in the chair in the center of DeRicci’s office. DeRicci resisted the urge to look at the door. She hoped Popova wouldn’t interrupt them again.

“One of our people,” DeRicci said, slowly, giving herself half a minute to back out if she changed her mind, “found a name.”

“A name?” Goudkins asked.

DeRicci nodded. She glanced at Goudkins. Goudkins sat primly, legs crossed at the ankles, but her hands had tightened around the food carton. She wanted to know this. She clearly wanted answers as well.

“This name is directly tied to PierLuigi Frémont’s DNA. This person isn’t selling the DNA, but she’s the only person that we have found who has access to something this pure.”

“You’re being deliberately mysterious,” Goudkins said. “Either you trust me or you don’t.”

DeRicci actually liked the irritation. She decided to ignore it, however, and take her own time on this, tell Goudkins her own way.

“We checked everywhere,” DeRicci said. “As one of our sources said, criminal organizations could make a fortune selling Frémont slow-grow DNA right now, only no one has it. No one knows where the clones came from, and no one is offering clones or the DNA for sale.”

“You’re certain?” Goudkins asked.

“Yes,” DeRicci said.

“Why don’t you go after this person?” Goudkins asked. “You clearly have resources that are not just Moon-based.”

DeRicci had never thought of her “sources” as non-Moon based. In truth, they were Moon-based, just with different access. However, she liked that Goudkins had made that assumption. It made DeRicci’s life a little easier.

DeRicci continued, “This woman is high up in the Earth Alliance. She has a security clearance so tight that no one I know can access any information about her.”

“Not even the vaunted Miles Flint?” Goudkins asked with just a little sarcasm.

“Not even Miles,” DeRicci said. “Not that I would ask him to do so. I’m afraid if any of us here on the Moon start looking at this woman, we’re going to unleash something new.”

“If she’s indeed guilty,” Goudkins said.

“Yes,” DeRicci said. “And if she is guilty, she’ll be expecting inquiries from people based on the Moon.”

“But not from within the Alliance?” Goudkins asked.

DeRicci inclined her head. It was a good point, and one she had considered.

“I think you might have the option to hide your search, while we can’t,” DeRicci said.

Goudkins frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” DeRicci said, stifling a burp. Great. The delicious onion rings hadn’t agreed with her. “I trust that you people have the ability to investigate each other, for promotions and other things, right? Or am I wrong about that?”

Goudkins put her food carton on the table. “You’re right. You want me to hide my inquiries as a standard job investigation?”

DeRicci returned to her chair and sat back down. “Or a promotion request. Or a lateral transfer. Find out everything you can about this woman.”

“If she works inside the Alliance,” Goudkins said, “I doubt her résumé will state that she sells Frémont DNA as a sideline.”

“She doesn’t,” DeRicci said. “Several people have made inquiries of her—”

“From the Moon?” Goudkins asked.

“No,” DeRicci said. “All sorts of criminal types, including the Black Fleet and an old partner of hers, have tried to get the DNA from her. It’s my understanding that she has rebuffed them all.”

Goudkins frowned. “Why would she do that?”

“That’s what you get to find out,” DeRicci said.

“All right,” Goudkins said. “Where does she work?”

“She started in prisons,” DeRicci said. “I’m told she was onsite when Frémont died.”

Goudkins let out a soft whistle. “That explains a lot.”

“It does?” DeRicci asked.

“It explains the timeline,” Goudkins said. “Frémont died over fifty years ago.”

DeRicci nodded. “All right, that’s a start.”

“Prisons,” Goudkins said. “Is she still in prisons?”

DeRicci shrugged. “This is where it gets interesting. Her job position is high up in the Alliance, and it’s classified.”

Goudkins let out a sound of disbelief. “I can’t investigate someone whose job is classified. That automatically makes her higher ranked than me.”

“Are you sure about that?” DeRicci asked. “Because it’s my understanding that lots of lower-level positions are classified as a way to keep information contained and controlled.”

Goudkins picked up one of the napkins and nervously wiped her hands. When she finished, she kept the napkin clutched in her left hand. “This is going to be very dangerous,” she said, more to herself than to DeRicci.

“Yes, it is,” DeRicci said, “and that’s why I didn’t mention it in front of Ostaka. We have a good lead, and we can’t track it. But you’ll have to be very careful, and you can’t consult with anyone in the Alliance.”

“Because you think this is Alliance based,” Goudkins said.

“I don’t make assumptions,” DeRicci lied. “Every investigator needs to blaze her own path. But the evidence we find keeps pointing to some Alliance involvement.”

“Why would the Alliance try to destroy itself?”

“I don’t mean it that way,” DeRicci said. “I don’t think the Alliance knows what’s going on. I think there are things being done with Alliance resources that the Alliance would frown on if it knew.”

Goudkins smiled, just a little. “And you want me to do the same thing.”

“What?” DeRicci asked. Sometimes, when she was tired, it felt like half her brain had gone on vacation.

“You want me to use Alliance resources without the Alliance finding out,” Goudkins said.

DeRicci grinned. She hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I guess I do.”

TWENTY-SIX

ETHAN BRODEUR’S CORNER of the massive City of Armstrong Coroner’s Office was a crabbed little cave that made Nyquist uncomfortable every time he entered it.

The décor of the coroner’s office had never been high on anyone’s list, particularly the architects and interior designers who first built the place, but over the decades, the entire office had sunk into neglect. It remained clean and well-lit, but it looked like it belonged to another era.