Vigilantes (26 page)

She almost said, “You have the footage. You’ve seen the beginning.”

But she didn’t. Instead she waited, trying to keep her legal mind alert to any traps that Nyquist might be setting.

“First I need some background,” Nyquist said. “I need a sense of Zhu. All I know about him is the legal connection to the Peyti clones. How long have you known him?”

Here it was: the beginning of the trial of Torkild Zhu. Maybe it hadn’t been police officers, someone might say. Maybe it had been a disgruntled client, or an old friend with some tougher friends brought along for assistance.

“Ms. Seng?” Nyquist asked a little more pointedly. “How long have you known Zhu?”

She swallowed hard.

“Twenty-four hours,” she said. “I just met him yesterday.”

THIRTY-THREE

GOUDKINS USED HER palm to open the last lock on the small ship the Earth Alliance had assigned her. She stepped inside. The air smelled slightly stale.

“Ship,” she said. “Refresh.”

A wisp of air touched her black hair, and sent a shiver through her. The air felt cool. It probably was colder in here than it was in the conference room in the Moon’s security offices. She had forgotten how warm she had felt when she first arrived, only weeks ago.

It seemed like she’d been involved in these investigations for a hundred years.

The ship had narrow corridors that led to the small pilot’s bay, the three private rooms, and the large investigative area. The ship wasn’t really designed for travel; it was designed for an on-site investigation, with set results.

The ship’s cargo level, underneath this one, had a small cargo bay and two large cells, complete with android guards. Right now, the android guards were off and stored in the bay, but should Goudkins need them, she could activate them with three very simple codes.

Ostaka didn’t know she was here. She had shut off the protocols that notified him of any entry into the ship before she left the Security Office. That way, if Ostaka investigated the change in ship’s status, he would find nothing.

But the records of Space Traffic Control here in the Port of Armstrong confirmed what Goudkins’ investigation told her as well: Ostaka hadn’t responded to the notification of the change in the protocols. She doubted he had noticed.

Goudkins sighed, then changed the access passwords on the ship. Not to bar his entry: he could get in if he believed that she was injured, but only if he got clearance from headquarters.

She made sure the alarms were activated so she would hear if anyone entered the ship. Then she went into the investigation room.

The networks here had fifteen levels of security built in, not counting the security tied to the ship itself. The ship created its own system wherever it went, so that it never used the systems developed by local governments.

So many of Goudkins’ colleagues spent their entire careers investigating local governments within the Earth Alliance that trusting those governmental systems was foolhardy in the extreme.

She slipped into the chair in front of the system she always used for investigations. That way, if there were any questions about the conduct of the investigators, the trail would be easy to retrace. The ship itself backed up every keystroke, every vocal command, every thought-link connection, so that no one could change the information on the various systems—at least, not without some serious skills.

Neither she nor Ostaka had those skills.

She ran a hand through her hair.

This was the moment at which she took control of the investigation.

She opened a secure channel to Ava Huỳnh, her immediate supervisor. Then she used a special encrypted link.

It would take a moment for the contact to reach Huỳnh.

Goudkins pulled another console toward her. She would investigate while she waited. She had a lot to look into, and she would do it whether Huỳnh approved or not.

As if summoned by that thought, a hologram of Huỳnh appeared on top of the second console. She was wearing all pink, including a touch in her bangs, and the outfit only made her seem ridiculous.

Huỳnh was a tiny woman anyway, and for that reason people often underestimated her. Her clothing didn’t help.

What she lacked in fashion sense, however, she had in brains. She was the most intelligent investigator Goudkins had ever worked with. And she was a compassionate boss.

“I was wondering if I’d hear from you,” Huỳnh said.

Goudkins decided to play coy. “Why?”

“Because Ostaka says you’ve been co-opted by the natives. He’s filed a detailed report about all the stuff you’re doing to help them.” Huỳnh appeared to be standing in her office, but her image was so tiny that Goudkins couldn’t tell.

She thought of expanding the image, but that would make Huỳnh too real. Goudkins wanted to keep some measure of control, at least in her own mind.

“We’re not getting along,” Goudkins said.

“Obviously,” Huỳnh replied dryly.

“He’s not investigating,” Goudkins said. “He’s just double-checking everyone’s work. I don’t think he’s left the Security Office for the United Domes of the Moon except to sleep for days.”

“Because of his investigation?” Huỳnh asked.

“Because—I don’t know. He doesn’t interact with anyone there, and he is pretty hostile to me. I recorded our last interaction, if you want to see it.”

“I do,” Huỳnh said. “Send it to me.”

She didn’t ask Goudkins if he had done the same. On the way to the port, Goudkins had gone over every recent interaction she’d had with Ostaka. She couldn’t think of anything a supervisor would find amiss in her behavior with Ostaka.

But then, she wasn’t a supervisor.

Still, she sent the last conversation to Huỳnh. Goudkins knew that Huỳnh wouldn’t go over it until this meeting ended.

“Was that it?” Huỳnh asked.

“No,” Goudkins said with surprise. “Not at all. I planned to contact you before I had that little altercation with Ostaka.”

“All right.” Huỳnh shifted slightly as if her feet hurt. And if she wore the pointed, high-heeled shoes that she often wore when she was trying out new fashion, then her feet probably did hurt. “What’s up?”

“A couple things,” Goudkins said. “First, I’ve been working closely with the Chief of Moon Security, Noelle DeRicci. She’s the closest thing the Moon has to a leader right now.”

“Closely?” Huỳnh asked.

“She would like me to investigate a few things through the Alliance servers rather than the Moon servers. She’s worried that someone might monitor Moon investigations and block them.”

“Do you share that worry?” Huỳnh asked.

“I have no idea what we’re dealing with here,” Goudkins said. “So I think caution is wise. Ostaka thinks I shouldn’t work with her at all. Since I’m here at your direction, I figured I would ask you.”

“You don’t think the Moon’s government was behind any of these attacks, do you?”

“The United Domes of the Moon barely exists right now,” Goudkins said. “I doubt they would have set up something that so completely destroyed their growing structure. Do I think another Moon government might be involved? I would if the domes hadn’t been so hard hit in the first attack. I can follow every lead I have, but I’d rather work smart than repeatedly go over the work that everyone else has done. And I think part of working smart is working with some very good investigators here.”

“I have teams in every dome,” Huỳnh said. “They’ve found nothing to suggest a Moon-based attack. I’m sending in Peyti and some other non-human investigators as well. I think we’re covered if there is some kind of Moon-based attack.”

Goudkins hadn’t expected any of that. She frowned, trying to parse Huỳnh’s comment. Then realized that she didn’t understand most of it.

“So, you’re saying you’re okay with me working closely with Noelle DeRicci?”

“As long as you report regularly to me, I’m fine with it,” Huỳnh said. “The moment you believe working with them compromises your investigation rather than strengthens it, pull out.”

“I will,” Goudkins said. “Should I tell Ostaka?”

Huỳnh sighed. “No. I’ll deal with him. It wouldn’t hurt to have an old-fashioned anti-government investigation as well.”

Was that what Huỳnh thought Ostaka did well? Because Goudkins had seen no evidence of it. But that didn’t mean anything. Ostaka might be good at a certain type of investigation and bad at others. If he stayed with his strength, and Goudkins worked from hers, they might discover something.

And Moon might miraculously rebuild everything next week.

She tamped down the internal sarcasm.

“DeRicci had a question,” Goudkins asked, “and since I’m talking with you, I thought I’d ask it. If you don’t know, I’ll see what I can find.”

“What’s that?” Huỳnh asked.

Goudkins swiveled her chair slightly so she wasn’t twisted oddly as she faced Huỳnh.

“In the middle of the Peyti Crisis, as they’re calling that day here, DeRicci’s office discovered that the Peyti clones were all of Uzvekmt.”

“I’m aware of that,” Huỳnh said in a tone that urged Goudkins to get to the point.

“There was, and continues to be, a lot of evidence that the Uzvekmt clones developed off-Moon, and DeRicci was concerned that they might attack places other than the Moon. She sent all of that information to the Alliance, and I’m not sure if that information ever got to you.”

“It got to me,” Huỳnh said. “Late, but it got to me.”

Late. That wasn’t good.

“Were there other attacks?” Goudkins asked.

“Not that we’ve found,” Huỳnh said.

“Were there more clones of Uzvekmt?”

Huỳnh shifted again. Then she inclined her head sideways. “We found hundreds of them.”

Something in her tone was off. Goudkins wished she had increased the hologram’s size after all so that she could see Huỳnh’s face more clearly.

“And what did you do?” Goudkins asked.

“We didn’t have to do anything,” Huỳnh said. “They did it all.”

Goudkins frowned. “What do you mean?”

Huỳnh shook her head, then looked down. She took such a deep breath that even through the small hologram, Goudkins could see Huỳnh’s shoulders rise and fall.

“They died, Wilma,” Huỳnh said. “All of them. The same day as your Peyti Crisis.”

“Died?” Goudkins asked. “They just…died?”

Huỳnh shook her head again. “I said that wrong. At the exact same hour that your attacks began, every clone of Uzvekmt that we found,
every single one
, killed himself.”

Goudkins put a hand to her mouth. She didn’t mean to show shock; she had done it before she even registered her own action.

“How?” she asked.

“Different methods,” Huỳnh said. “Not what you’d expect.”

“No bomb, then,” Goudkins said. “Did they take anyone else out with them?”

“Most of them, no. A few managed to. Those were the ones who did use bombs. And they were in Earth environments. They had the same masks. But they were isolated, usually on a space station or a space yacht or, in one case, in a remote resort. Not something other governments would have even noticed if Chief DeRicci hadn’t alerted us to the clones’ existence.”

Goudkins’ heart was pounding. “Don’t you find that odd?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you think that they would all use the masks the way the clones here did, as well?”

“I find this whole thing odd,” Huỳnh said. “We’re investigating on the Peyti side. We have some leads. I’ll keep you apprised.”

And then she winked out.

Goudkins wanted to slam a hand on the console. She wasn’t done talking with Huỳnh. But Huỳnh was done.

Still, Goudkins had gotten through the important part of the discussion. She had tentative approval to work with DeRicci and, Goudkins hadn’t had to admit what DeRicci wanted her to investigate.

Then she stood up, unsettled by what Huỳnh had told her.

Only the clones on the Moon had deliberately gone to a place filled with people and tried to blow it up at the appointed hour. A few others had, but not enough to notice.

Everyone else died here.

DeRicci was right: the attacks definitely targeted the Moon.

That piece of information was a lot more important than Huỳnh seemed to think it was.

Goudkins relaxed a little.

They were on the right track.
She
was on the right track.

Solve the problem on the Moon, and maybe, just maybe, they would solve the problem everywhere.

She nodded to herself, feeling better about helping DeRicci, feeling better about the investigation, and finally,
finally
, feeling like she could do something to avenge her sister’s death.

THIRTY-FOUR