Dominance

A Fox Meridian Novel

By Niall Teasdale

Copyright 2017 Niall Teasdale

Amazon Kindle Edition

Contents

Part One: A Very Private Murder

Part Two: Cold Vengeance

Part Three: It’s a Dirty Job, But…

Part Four: Confession is Good for the Sentence

Part One: A Very Private Murder

New York Metro, 7th January 2062.

The room was a dungeon. The walls were cold, roughly shaped stone, wet from water seeping through from above. The ceiling was thick wooden boards held up on beams which would have looked appropriate on an old sailing ship. The floor was rough earth with dark patches that might have been damp or might have been bloodstains. And there were the racks of whips and other instruments designed to wring a response from the room’s occupants.

The current occupant was a man hanging from a large, wooden, X-shaped cross. Metal shackles held his wrists and ankles, stretching him across the frame. His head was encased in a leather hood fitted with a thick ball gag; only his eyes, grey and fearful, showed. Beyond the mask, he was naked, his body exposed to whatever might come. It was a good body: his muscles strained against his bonds, his waist was narrow, and his stomach flat. His chest had a light mat of hair which was currently slicked down with sweat. There were marks from a lash there too, as well as across his stomach and thighs. His penis, above average in size, especially in girth, was semi-erect and it twitched violently as nine strips of leather slashed across his abdomen again.

‘You’ll have to do better than that if you expect to get off tonight. Look at it. I’ve seen better equipment on a rat!’

The speaker, the one holding the lash, was a tall woman with short-cropped, near-white hair and hard, almost masculine, features partially hidden by a leather mask which rose in horns on either side of her face. Her eyes were cold and blue; her lips were full and painted a red so dark it was almost black. She wore a leather corset which enhanced her already impressive breasts, a tiny G-string, and thigh-high boots with five-inch heels. She wielded the lash with an easy skill which spoke of considerable practice. The weapon flicked out, striking chest, stomach, right thigh, and then, when her victim’s cock began to rise further, she struck upward, between his legs, and his back arched in pain. There was an accompanying cry, muffled by the gag.

‘That’s better!’ she said, amusement in her voice. ‘I want to hear you–’

She cut off as the door of the dungeon opened. Briefly, the viron failed to handle the animation change and the real door was visible before the simulated one caught up. Frowning, the mistress turned to berate the newcomer. ‘I’m working in–’ This time she was cut off by the twin laser beams, visible only via the trails of plasma they created, which hit her corset just below her left breast. There was pain and the scent of burning leather, and then the electric discharge hit her. Her jaw clenched and her body jerked in the grip of the artificial lightning, and her muscles failed to respond as her attacker crossed the room and pressed something against her neck…

~~~

Naomi Lind woke up with a groan and tried her best to work out why she was lying on the floor. She felt like she had had far too much to drink and passed out, but she rarely drank to excess. Still, her head was throbbing and her mouth felt like she had recently taken up gargling salt. She pulled herself upright, taking in her clothing – corset, thong, and boots – and memories began to surface through the haze. She remembered she had been working. She had been working and…

She blinked and her mind caught up with the viron her implant was resolving. Dungeon. Yes, she had been hired by Winsford, the hypocritical piece of shit, and he always wanted the dungeon. She had put him up on the St Andrew’s Cross and…

There her memories entirely failed her and she turned around to where, if her memory was not completely screwed up, the cross was usually located, and then she stopped, eyes widening. For several seconds, she could do nothing but stand there, looking at the sight in front of her. The blood…

Then she shook her head and put through an emergency call to the police.

~~~

If Fox Meridian were to be brutally honest, a night at Sheela Na Gig had not been high on her list of things to do on the first Saturday of the new year. Her housemates, Sam and Marie, had insisted she needed to get out and her PA, Kit, had agreed with added sarcasm, and Helen Dillan, who was now sometimes her boss, sort of, had said it was what they should both be doing since nothing appeared to be going wrong with the metro policing contracts. So, Fox had got dolled up and they had all gone out to the fetish club.

Everything looked like it always did. The main club area was dimly lit and filled with people in various types of fetish wear from the amateur ‘just trying it out’ types, through the ranks of corsets and darker clubwear, to a few extremes. One guy was wandering around in a full gimp suit, or being led around on a leash by a woman in a corset so severe it was amazing she could draw breath.

‘Of course,’ Helen said, ‘you have to wonder how he can breathe too.’ The half-Chinese girl was in red latex, a dress cut low at the front and short enough that bending over was not a viable option. She had been to the club enough that she had invested in some red thigh-high boots with an inch or so of platform. The boots helped make up the height difference with her girlfriend, Terri, who was currently back on the Moon. She was an attractive woman, slim and fit, with the hint of exoticness lent by her Oriental heritage and a mass of short, strawberry-blonde hair.

‘There are generally air holes under the nostrils,’ Sam supplied. Sam was still an Oriental Greek god of a man, handsome, with the body of a trained martial artist, but he was being a little subdued this evening. He was wearing leather jacket and jeans with a black silk shirt, and he looked amazing, but he generally showed more skin in Sheela Na Gig. Fox was aware of why he had elected to keep himself relatively covered; he had been doing it ever since Jason had died. That just made it a little worse, but she was trying to ignore it.

‘Not sure I’m really keen on that outfit,’ Marie said. ‘The killer in episode sixteen wears one of those masks.’ Marie, vid-stream star of the erotic mystery series M.J., remained a stunning woman decked out in a short black leather dress with a large boob window. The dress showed off her primary talents, as far as the advertising industry was concerned, large and shapely breasts, and long legs. Her dark-red hair framed her face in a carefully tousled style tonight, as though she had rolled out of bed and walked into the club; since filming on season two of M.J. was finished, unless they needed to reshoot anything, it was not impossible that she had.

‘You should come with a spoiler warning,’ Kit suggested. She was in the club physically, her gynoid avatar dressed in a white latex tank dress which looked as though it had been fabricated onto her body. It was translucent enough that the shadows of her nipples could be seen through it. Her gynoid shared her normal avatar’s green eyes and pale skin, but beyond that there were few similarities, and yet everyone had accepted that the strawberry-blonde without the lush brush was the same person as the ash-blonde-with-ear-tufts kitsune they had come to know. It was likely because Kit sounded and acted like Kit, no matter what shape she took.

‘Ah, but it’s the unmasking that counts,’ Marie replied with a grin. ‘Anyway, Fox always knows who the killer is before we get to that part. I don’t think Adrian’s fooled her once.’

‘I’d be a pretty poor detective if he did,’ Fox replied. She had come decked out in a latex bra which pushed her already impressive breasts into something spectacular, over which was an oversized shirt made of a honeycombed latex with a solid band around the lower hem. The band managed to conceal her crotch, more or less, but she was wearing a flesh-toned thong beneath it, just to be sure. Her boots were new and made of a stretch fabric which topped out just below her buttocks, and there were crisscrossing ribbons down the sides of each boot. She had painted her lips in what the cosmetics counter had called ‘Fuck Me Crimson’ and added dark eyeshadow to highlight her sharp, blue-green eyes. The dark colours were countered by her hair; clipped short, it was orange-red at the top and faded to a far paler, almost white, colour at the ends. With her muscled body, long legs, and hard, attractive features, Fox could have passed for a dominatrix easily, but she was just not in the mood for anything like that at the moment.

‘How’s the new frame working out?’ Helen asked. It was sort of a related question.

Fox lifted her left hand – the right was holding a drink – and flexed her fingers. ‘So far, so good. I’ve only had it since Monday. Sonya’s indulging me with a check-up and service on Friday, just to be sure there are no problems.’ Sonya Gadot was the robotics technician MarTech had assigned to maintain Fox’s various bodies. In truth, the new one did not need someone as skilled as Sonya; Fox could probably have done most of the maintenance tasks herself, but it was hard to work on your own body.

‘So,’ Marie said, her brow knitting a little, ‘what does this do that the other doesn’t?’

‘Lots of stuff,’ Helen replied before Fox could. ‘It was designed as a sort of autonomous version of the evidence-collection vest you demoed. It doesn’t have all the sensors the vest has, but it’s got quite a lot of them. Multispectral vision with micro and telescopic options, audio analysis, gas- and liquid-phase chemical analysis–’

‘You what now?’

‘I can smell gases or taste things, and then run a chemical analysis on them,’ Fox explained. ‘Or I could if I had a clue how to. I’ve got some software to do that stuff for me. They based the frame on the Sylph model, like Kit’s, to make it as human-looking as possible, but they beefed it up a little for the policing role. We’re hoping to roll some of these out into patrol and evidence-collection duties, but this one was sculpted and skinned specifically for me.’

‘And the onboard computer uses some of the same experimental components as mine,’ Kit added. ‘In a combat environment, it doesn’t have quite the resilience of the unit in her combat frame, but it’s significantly more advanced, far more compact. And she has four quantum processors in there to handle on-site decryption and the like. Experience is a great teacher.’

Fox frowned. ‘I don’t recall Jackson mentioning anything about “experimental components.”’

Kit brushed the comment away with a flick of her hand. ‘You’d have just worried. Have you noticed any problems?’

‘Well, no. But–’

‘No buts.’ Kit’s gaze fell upon a girl walking past in a strappy harness and high heels. ‘Well, obviously there are plenty of butts around here, but not that kind. I–’ She stopped as both Fox and Helen frowned. ‘Something is wrong?’

Helen glanced over at Fox and pointed upward. Fox nodded and added, ‘Sensitive. I’ll take it and let you know what’s going on. Sorry, guys, business calls.’ Putting her glass down on the bar, Fox turned and headed for the rear of the club.

‘What’s going on?’ Marie asked.

Helen frowned. ‘Someone’s dead upstairs, and dispatch marked the call as sensitive.’

‘I’d imagine it’s always sensitive when someone dies,’ Sam said.

‘Agreed,’ Kit replied, ‘but that’s not what the code means. If Fox is notified of something like that, it means there’s a potential terrorism angle.’

‘In an S&M club?’

Kit gave a shrug. ‘Sometimes weird things happen.’

~~~

There was a man in a suit standing outside the room Fox had been directed to. She had never been in the upper levels of the club, which were members-only, but she had heard a few things. Sam worked there occasionally and Naomi worked there quite often. In fact, Naomi was standing beside the man in the suit, dressed up in a leather corset that did magical things to her chest, but not looking at all like her confident self.

Fox sent off an identity broadcast, but the man in the suit seemed to know who she was anyway. ‘Thaddeus Tree, Captain Meridian,’ he said as she approached. ‘I’m the head of security at Sheela Na Gig.’ A transmission accompanied the little speech, but it told Fox pretty much what he had just said. Tree was a good name for him: he was six-foot-four and appeared to spend all his off-hours pumping weights. His suit had been carefully tailored to fit over his muscled frame and was slate grey with a pale-blue pinstripe, colours which went surprisingly well with his dark, very dark, skin. Aside from the short, tight dreadlocks his black hair was wound into, Tree looked like some Nubian prince from a sword-and-sandals action vid, but his Boston accent kind of spoiled that image.

‘What do we have, Mister Tree?’ Fox asked. She was still trying to get used to being called ‘Captain Meridian’ again. She had not been entirely happy about the choice of rank designations in the new order, but they did make sense. ‘And what are you doing here, Naomi?’

‘I, uh…’ Naomi began.

‘Sister Naomi found the body,’ Tree picked up. Naomi was definitely not herself tonight. ‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘In a manner of speaking?’

‘He’s my client,’ Naomi said. ‘I don’t really remember going in with him, though I remember setting the room up. I woke up about ten minutes ago.’ She swallowed. ‘That was when I found him.’

Fox frowned. ‘So, you were alone in this room with a client, and then he was dead.’

‘I woke up on the floor and–’

Fox held up a hand. ‘Don’t say anything else. Like it or not, I’m going to have to treat you as a suspect.’

‘Of course,’ Naomi said, nodding. ‘I know that.’ She straightened her back and lifted her chin, and the professional was back, the Sister Superior Naomi Lind that Fox was used to. ‘I’ll be available for whatever–’

‘Hush a second,’ Fox said, holding up her hand and leaning forward. She put her hands on Naomi’s waist and looked down at a spot just under her left breast.

‘I know they’re awesome,’ Naomi said, perplexed, ‘but is this the time to be staring at my tits?’

Fox zoomed in on the mark she had seen; at ten times magnification, she could see two punctures in the leather and the burning around them. ‘I’m not looking at your boobs, I’m looking at the electrolaser hit under the left one. It looks like the beams burned through.’

‘I am a little sore under there.’

‘It won’t be much of a burn, but we’ll get it looked at.’ Fox lifted her head and straightened up. ‘I’m going to get you transported over to tower three and we’ll do the interview there. One of our medics can check out the burn and record it. You’re evidence as well as a suspect.’ She turned to the door. ‘Open it up. I’ll take a look inside and decide what to do from there.’

‘Should I inform the others what’s happening, Fox?’ Kit asked. This was the copy of Kit running on one of Fox’s internal processors, not the one in the gynoid downstairs. It could get confusing.

‘Not yet,’ Fox replied inside her mind. ‘Let’s see what we have before we ruin their night.’ She stepped through the door Tree had opened and scanned the room. ‘Has anyone but Naomi and you been in here, Mister Tree?’ she asked aloud. It looked like a medieval dungeon, but the majority of that was virtual imagery. Stripping out the v-tag data presented a fairly simple rectangular room with walls, floor, and ceiling painted in matte grey. There were various racks of BDSM equipment and sex toys, a table to which ‘victims’ could be tied, and an X-shaped cross made of steel and plastic to which the body was fixed with padded leather cuffs. Without going closer, Fox could tell he was dead: blood had run down his arms from beneath his cuffs, over his torso, and down his legs to form pools under his feet.

‘Since the report, no,’ Tree said, ‘but the room’s booked by the hour, like all the others. Plenty of people have been through it.’

‘Uh, but they sterilise the place every morning before the club opens,’ Naomi supplied. ‘They’re pretty thorough.’

Fox nodded. ‘Might make running the room worth it. I’m going to need to close this room until we’ve processed it. I’ll have someone here to take Naomi for her own processing in… twenty minutes. I’m going to need any and all security data you have for the last two hours and the bookings for all your rooms for today. Do I need a warrant, Mister Tree?’

‘No, Captain,’ Tree replied. ‘Under the circumstances, Sheela Na Gig is more than willing to assist in any way it can. Besides, Sister Naomi says you’re the best detective New York has.’

‘I did not,’ Naomi said.

‘Well, no,’ Fox said. ‘It’s a nice thought, but–’

‘I didn’t limit it to New York,’ Naomi corrected with a smirk.

8th January.

Fox looked around from her examination of the body as the door opened. Helen stopped just inside the door and raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s alright for some,’ Helen said.

‘Huh?’

‘I’d have to wear a crime scene suit for that. Not to mention needing instruments.’

Fox looked down and shrugged. She had taken off her boots and pulled off her shirt, leaving them just inside the door, away from the body. Her new frame came with a nanomachine cleansing system which basically made her as clean as a suit. Kit’s gynoid had the same feature, designed to lessen the chances of passing on sexually transmitted diseases, but it worked very well when you did not want to contaminate a scene. ‘It is kind of useful. Never thought I’d get to process a scene in bra and panties.’

‘Those are panties only by a very broad definition of the term. I’ve got three swarm hives and an arachnoform out here for you. Pythia’s in the van out the back.’

‘Right.’ Fox backed away, being careful not to step in the blood. ‘I’ll get this going. I’d prefer to get Naomi’s interview done tonight and it’s already getting late. Or early.’

‘Yeah. I got notified she was back at the tower. Kit took Sam and Marie over there to keep her company. Sort of. This is not how our Saturday night was supposed to go.’

‘No… No, but then Mister Winsford here gets himself slaughtered.’

Helen frowned as Fox walked over to her and began to dress again. ‘Thomas Winsford? Vote broker and conservative?’

‘That would be him. Facial-recognition match. We’ll confirm prints later.’

‘Thomas Winsford uses prostitutes who strap him to a wall and whip him? And no one noticed?’

‘Well, I’ll be confirming that with Naomi later, and it would also be why this was marked sensitive. Guy holds a huge voting block on the right wing. His opinion swayed a lot of others, but if… when it comes out that he was a fucking hypocrite, literally, it’s going to make a huge political mess. The right’s going to be trying to salvage something, and the left’s going to be screaming about dishonest right wingers.’

‘And Palladium’s in the middle trying to sort out what happened.’ Helen gave a sigh and patted Fox’s shoulder. ‘Well, rather you than me.’

‘Oh thanks.’ Fox pulled up a connection to Pythia. ‘Pythia, let’s get this going. I’m going to need a full scan of the room and a full sweep concentrating…’

~~~

There were relatively few people on the LI-line train Fox took out to the MarTech towers. It was late for the more staid New Yorkers and a little early for the more adventurous ones. The former group were at home in bed and the latter were still out in clubs, but there were other passengers and most of them seemed to think Fox was underdressed. She ignored them and went over Pythia’s data on the scene.

Since the loss of Prokhorov Station, and Jason Deveraux, her lover, Fox had got fairly good at ignoring humans. Jason had died in August and Fox had tracked down those responsible. They were all in the Cold Harbour ultra-secure prison on the Moon with very little chance of ever seeing the outside world again, and Fox had done her best to appear to be handling her loss. She had been needed for the private policing contract negotiations and she had done her job. It had been Kit, of course, who had realised what was really going on. Fox was working eighteen-hour days on contract documents, hiding away in their apartment viron so that she did not have to deal with humans. Humans treated her with kid gloves and offered sympathy. Or they did not realise what had happened and tried to chat her up. When it was business, things were generally formal enough that she could fix a smile on her face and work through. In social settings that was next to impossible, and Fox had developed an armoured shell of indifference which worked well until mid-December when Kit had told her to get her act together. And she had, more or less, but she still found a lot of humans rather irritating.

Thomas Winsford was another matter, however. Thomas Winsford had never moved in the circles Fox did, but he had irritated her plenty without knowing it. He had been a strong advocate of the metro policing resolution, and a strong proponent of Wayden Executive Services, Palladium’s only major competitor. He had not got things all the way he wanted: of the six policing regions the government had decided upon for placing contracts, Wayden had got only two. Winsford had been screaming about Palladium getting New York ever since, though he had really wanted Wayden to get the old precinct 18 area and had not cared what happened elsewhere. He was loud and annoying, and it seemed he was going to continue to be a pain in the ass from beyond the grave.

The preliminary cause of death was exsanguination: he had died because his blood had leaked out of his body. Slowly. The microbot swarm had found the largest wounds under the suspension cuffs he had been held up by, but the leather would have slowed the flow from there. The killer had added smaller puncture wounds in various strategic locations over a number of major blood vessels, but none large enough to cause a quick death.

There were also multiple other insults. Winsford had been whipped with, at an estimate, three different weapons. Fox was going to have to confirm some of the data because there was a strong indication that some of the damage had been far more controlled and done with a multi-stranded whip. She suspected that Naomi was responsible for those, but probably not the deeper wounds. Fox had intimate knowledge of what it was like to be whipped by someone who meant it and was surprised to find herself a little uncomfortable at seeing the same damage done to someone else. However, Reginald Grant had never got to one thing he had enjoyed doing to his victims when he had Fox at his mercy, but someone had done their best to simulate the same thing with Winsford: the killer, Fox assumed, had managed to ram a twelve-inch dildo into Winsford’s rectum. There was a small possibility that some internal damage caused by that had killed him before the blood loss could. The only way to be sure was going to be an autopsy.

‘This is personal,’ Fox said in the silence of her mind. ‘This isn’t politics or terrorism. Whoever did this was really pissed off at Winsford.’

‘I would agree,’ Kit replied. ‘I would add that there is a sexual component to the crime, but that is not necessarily the primary motivator.’

‘Well, the situation suggests something sexual, plus there’s the dildo. Then again, I’d expect that caused a great deal of pain.’

‘The measured diameter was eight centimetres. I would be surprised if Mister Winsford was used to, um, taking that much.’

Fox smirked. ‘Are you blushing?’

‘No,’ Kit replied tritely. ‘I don’t have blood to blush with.’

‘Huh. Anyway, I don’t see Winsford being into that kind of thing either, but then I didn’t think he was into hiring a dominatrix either. We’ll see what Naomi has to say about that. Are you building a murder room?’

‘My home copy is setting one up, and has been for a couple of hours. I would suggest visiting it in the morning. You could use a sleep cycle before you get really serious about this case.’

The train pulled smoothly into MarTech’s tower one, and Fox stepped off, heading for the southbound HT-line platform. ‘Yes, Mom. I can get this interview handled with Naomi, and then she can get back to the chapter house tonight rather than having to hang around here.’

‘You don’t believe Naomi is the killer? I don’t believe she would do such a thing.’

Fox pursed her lips and waited for the next train to arrive. ‘I think Naomi could kill someone, under the right circumstances. Most people can. I could probably come up with circumstances in which she’d kill Winsford, but not like this. Either it would be impulse and this murder wasn’t impulsive, or she’d make sure she was never caught.’

~~~

‘Okay, we’re recording this, Sister,’ Fox said, being formal for the record, ‘and you have been read your rights. Do you understand your rights?’

‘Yes,’ Naomi said, nodding. They were seated in one of the interview rooms in tower three which had only recently been installed after Palladium had won the policing contract for New York Metro. Naomi was actually one of the first people to be interviewed in one. One of, but hardly the very first: crime did not stop just because NAPA was no longer running things.

‘Good. Could you please explain your relationship with Thomas Winsford?’

Naomi sighed. ‘Technically, that is covered by our confidentiality agreement. Under the circumstances, I am prepared to discuss it, but I would require an assurance that the information is not communicated outside those who need to know.’

‘All I can guarantee is that Palladium won’t release that information to the media. If this goes to trial and the information is needed there…’

‘Of course. And obviously, what I’ve just said indicates our relationship. He was my client. He hired me to perform certain acts. Of a sexual nature.’

Fox leaned back in her chair. The furniture in the white room was a little more comfortable than the old NAPA interrogation rooms, but not much more. Between them there was a table a little bigger than Fox was used to, but it was still bolted to the floor and fitted with a couple of brackets to chain prisoners to. ‘You’re being more circumspect than I’d expect. You’re normally more… forthright about sex.’

Naomi’s lips twitched. ‘Ah… Thomas Winsford was more or less incapable of getting an erection without some form of dominance play being involved. I’m not sure what his wife, ex-wife I should say, did to get him going, but he got off on being bound and whipped. He liked a fantasy element, so we employed a number of virons to enhance the experience. Tonight it was a dungeon. A torture chamber.’

Fox nodded. ‘You saw the body. He was whipped to the point of drawing blood.’

‘I can account for some of the marks you undoubtedly found, but I’m careful never to draw blood. I use a flogger, multiple leather strips around twenty inches in length, or sometimes a paddle of one form or another. I’m good at employing my tools.’

‘No bullwhips? I noticed one on the floor and several in the racks.’

‘Not with Winsford. Some enjoy that, or the canes, but you have to be careful. Very careful. You can severely hurt someone with a bullwhip. Winsford would never have stood for anything that violent.’

‘Okay. Tell me what happened tonight. Was this a regular engagement?’

Naomi shook her head. ‘No. He calls and makes an appointment when he wants service. This was booked… two weeks ago, around Christmas. He has me book the room so that his own name is never on record and wears a full face mask to conceal his identity when he enters the club. I always collect him from the ground floor and take him up. Tonight, I’d selected the dungeon theme. I had him strip and I put him up on the St Andrew’s Cross.’

‘That’s the X-shaped one he was found on?’

‘Yes. Named, obviously, for the cross Saint Andrew the Apostle was crucified on. Anyway, I gagged him, a ball gag that snaps to the mask, and I started doing the usual routine. I’m sure I’d started. Flogging. Suggesting that he was less than virile… Uh, then I woke up on the floor. I was feeling a little groggy and couldn’t really remember where I was. I stood up and remembered I was supposed to be with Winsford. And… And I turned around. I… I think I just stood there for… I’m not sure. Seconds? Then I called nine-one-one and summoned Tree. Something like this is not supposed to be possible. The rooms are monitored by an AI.’

‘Mm,’ Fox said, but she decided not to go there yet. ‘You don’t remember anything between starting the session and waking up some… fifteen minutes after the session was due to end?’

‘Nothing. I certainly don’t remember this…’ Naomi had been given a white jumpsuit to replace her clothes, which were now in evidence. She showed absolutely no embarrassment as she unzipped the suit to her waist and pulled the garment aside, pressing her fingers to a reddened area of skin under her left breast. ‘Your technicians put me through some sort of scanner. I assume this was captured?’

Fox nodded. ‘Uh, you can put that away. I’ve seen the preliminary analysis. They took blood too, but we don’t have the results back on that.’ Naomi busied herself with her suit while Fox continued. ‘That’s a burn from an electrolaser. You’d likely have been stunned, but it can render someone unconscious. There’s a mark from a pressure injector on your neck. We currently think you were drugged, but we’ll wait for the full analysis. A flunitrazepam derivative might explain the memory loss. At this time, we are not viewing you as a suspect, Sister, but please don’t make any plans to leave the metro. Recording off.’

Fox got to her feet and headed for the door. ‘Come on. We’ll arrange some transport to get you back to the chapter house.’

‘Thank you, Fox, but…’ Naomi got to her feet and followed. Somehow, she just looked wrong in flat shoes. ‘What about the monitoring? There should be video. The AI should have–’

‘Whoever did this was either very good or they knew how the system worked. The AI was shut down and the cameras were turned off. That means someone at the club or an expert in computers and security systems.’

‘No one at Sheela Na Gig knew Winsford went there.’

‘I find that a little difficult to believe, but I’ll be talking to everyone. It’s more difficult because…’ Fox shook her head, frowning. ‘Bloody politics. If it gets out the guy was using a dominatrix, there’ll be Hell to pay. I can’t believe you took him as a client.’ Setting off down the corridor outside the interview rooms, Fox headed for the public waiting area outside the secured part of what was now, effectively, the central police HQ for New York Metro. ‘I mean… why?’

‘That’s… complicated. I’d rather not go into it, and not here. If you want to hear the full story, come over to the chapter house tomorrow, or when you can.’

‘Okay.’ A signal unlocked the doors ahead of them and Fox pushed through into the room beyond. There was immediate movement as Sam and Marie got to their feet. Helen got up slower and Kit was already standing. ‘Okay,’ Fox said, ‘I’ve finished grilling her like a fish for now.’

‘Oh, but Fox, I think I might have enjoyed that,’ Naomi replied.

‘You got to get your tits out, on record. That may be a first in an interview.’

‘Probably not,’ Helen said.

‘Okay, first in an interview here.’

‘I’m going with probably not, but you could be right.’

‘And it was just the one tit,’ Naomi pointed out.

‘I’m sorry I missed it,’ Marie said, but it was a little obvious she was forcing the humour.

‘I’ve ordered an autocab, Naomi,’ Kit said. ‘Actually, two. I thought it would be appropriate for all of us to return to our homes reasonably promptly.’

‘Yeah,’ Fox said. ‘I’m due a sleep cycle. I have to be up bright and early to solve a murder.’

‘You only need four hours’ sleep,’ Sam pointed out. ‘You’re always up bright and early.’

‘Not if I don’t get to bed early enough. Move.’

~~~

Having done the preliminary paperwork before climbing into her frame for the night, it was almost four a.m. before Fox shut down and almost eight a.m. before she emerged from a dreamless ‘sleep.’ She still called it a ‘sleep cycle,’ but she no longer really thought of it as sleep. Human sleep was a period of unconsciousness, too easily disturbed by environmental or mental conditions. Fox was offline for four hours, dead to the world, though the memory reconciliation process could be interrupted if it needed to be, but only deliberately. There were no dreams, no thoughts. Fox was rather happy about that.

‘Winsford’s in the paper,’ Fox commented as she sipped virtual coffee on the sofa in her virtual lounge and read the morning newspaper. It was not a real newspaper – real newspapers did not have videos and hyperlinks – but Kit and Belle created the document each morning to provide a comfortable way for Fox to take in the morning’s news, and Fox had found she liked it.

‘The media blackout is holding for the moment,’ Kit said. She had taken to drinking coffee with Fox. Sometimes Belle even popped in to join them, though not this morning. ‘As you can see, the IB channels are basically saying that he’s dead.’

‘They’ve tagged me as investigating officer and a couple of them have made the link to terrorism. I get tasked with heading up our antiterrorist division, when it’s needed, so this must be terrorism-related.’

‘A relatively simple deduction which they were likely to make.’

‘Yeah, but we need to put a cap on their expectations. Could you get the memetics department to put together a suitable press release? Something along the lines of me being assigned to regular cases as well as terrorist threats and the sensitivity of handling an important figure such as Thomas Winsford obviously requiring a senior detective.’

Kit nodded. ‘I’ll have my CIO copy arrange it.’

Fox flashed a grin. ‘Okay, two questions. How’s the training centre coming along?’

‘We are expecting all work to be completed by the end of this month. Our first clients are booked for a course starting Monday, sixth of February. That would be the Topeka Watch emergency team.’

‘Well, they don’t even need to book a hotel. And how has your first week as Palladium’s Chief Investigations Officer gone?’

Kit blinked. ‘Oh! Uh, I…’

‘That was not supposed to be a hard question.’

‘Well, I think things have gone well. The initial switchover from NAPA to Palladium policing went smoothly. CIO-me has done a lot of commuting between here and Chicago to be sure everything was going to plan.’

‘Uh-huh, but how do you feel about it?’

Kit pursed her lips in thought. ‘Truthfully, I prefer being your assistant and helping with investigations. However, even if I have to put up with boring meetings and a lot of paperwork, my ability to create copies and share memories between them means that I can do the boring stuff and the fun stuff. And I take some pleasure in doing a good job at the corporate level.’

‘Better than I would,’ Fox said, and meant it. ‘You tell me if you stop enjoying it. I got out of that job because I could see myself hating it. I don’t want you keeping going in something you dislike.’

‘I promise I will.’

Fox gave a nod. ‘I see there’s more political noise about the Astraeus Project. “Too expensive.” “No clear benefits.” Blah, blah.’

‘I should have thought that the benefits of establishing a relatively permanent base on Titan were obvious,’ Kit said, looking puzzled. ‘Even ignoring the scientific potential of a planet which may host life.’

‘Oh, we could send cyberframes and get that information,’ Fox said.

‘There is also the commercial aspect,’ Kit went on, ignoring the comment. ‘Saturn would be an excellent source of hydrogen and helium, and Titan itself is an almost limitless source of methane.’

‘So are politicians, but you don’t see us mounting space missions to mine them.’

‘My, aren’t we in a sarcastic mood this morning?’

‘Maybe I’m trying to build up my defences before I have to go deal with politicians,’ Fox said, turning the page.

Kit gave a sigh. ‘Most of Mister Winsford’s known associates, whether friend or enemy, do fall into that category. Sorry.’

‘Never mind. All part of the job. We’ll never get appointments to interview them today anyway.’

‘True.’

‘But I still think mining them for methane should be seriously considered. We could solve the world’s energy problems if we hook up a couple of hundred in parallel.’

~~~

Fox scanned around the murder room, one eyebrow raised and a vague feeling of dread developing somewhere in the back of her mind. ‘That’s… quite a few connections.’

‘Yes,’ Kit said, not sounding troubled. ‘Mister Winsford was a man who networked.’

From the looks of it, that was a mild understatement. The black, blank space of the room was centred on an image of Thomas Winsford, a man who had kept himself fit and quite handsome through a regimen of exercise and a lot of money spent on cosmetic enhancements. His nose was a little large, but it was also sculpted; instead of reducing it, he had had it reshaped with a high bridge like a stereotyped Roman senator. His cheekbones had been sharpened and, if Fox was any judge, his jawline had been strengthened. He had a strong, good-looking face, but even in the ID photograph Kit had used in the room, his grey eyes had a slightly malign, calculating look to them. His hair was short, carefully styled, and mid-brown.

Around him, the network of his immediate friends, enemies, and frenemies was a large one. He was in some way connected to every politically minded person in New York. No, further than that. Fox frowned as she spotted connections out to Detroit–Chicago Metro, specifically to Wayden Executive Services where he was linked to Major Norton Wayden and his son, Sherman. And there was another slightly odd thing…

‘Far more men than women,’ Fox commented.

‘I had noticed that,’ Kit agreed. ‘It’s a little more imbalanced than it appears since this one’ – she indicated a picture set off to one side on its own – ‘is Celia Codnor, Mister Winsford’s ex-wife. The gossip sites indicate the separation was acrimonious. I believe it would be wise to talk to her. The others… This is everyone I detected with a known link to Mister Winsford. He had few friends. Most of these people sit in the categories of people who have expressed significant hatred for him, or like-minded individuals who may gain vote delegations following his death.’

‘The two Waydens?’

‘Political allies, but Sherman Wayden was one of Mister Winsford’s few real friends.’

‘Okay, for now, get me a list of people who you think were actually a threat to Winsford, then get me interviews with them and the ex.’ Fox sighed. ‘If we have to dredge through all this lot to find out who killed him, it’ll be Christmas before we resolve it.’

~~~

Thomas Winsford had lived in an apartment three floors down from the top of Times Spire. While a lot of the accommodation space in the arcology had been converted over to business use, the upper floors were still considered a prestigious address to hold and Winsford had been a prestigious man. His apartment fitted that image.

From the main double doors, you entered a lobby which looked like it had been decorated by someone used to working on Regency drawing rooms. Lots of pale colours and panelling, a couple of small tables with lion’s-claw feet, and a pair of doors, a single one off to the side and another double set straight ahead. Fox was just discovering that the single door led to a large closet when the double doors opened and a man walked out.

‘May I be of assistance, ma’am? Mister Winsford is not expecting company.’ The accent was upper-class English and nasal, which went with a nose that would have gone well on the face of an eagle. He was tall, beanpole thin, and had thinning, black hair, and he was dressed in an immaculate, pinstriped suit. He was not supposed to be there.

‘He’s an android,’ Kit said. ‘Class three AI, and he obviously hasn’t been told Mister Winsford is deceased. The ID packet says he’s called Smith.’

‘Oh,’ Smith said before Fox could respond, ‘you’re a policewoman?’

‘Detective,’ Fox said. ‘Captain Tara Meridian. I’m investigating the death of Mister Thomas Winsford. I’m a little surprised no one’s made you aware…’

The android’s appearance of dispassion failed for about two seconds. Fox saw confusion flash over his face and a hint of anger. He actually took half a step back before pulling himself up straight. ‘I see. No. No one saw fit to inform me.’

‘He’s a class three?’ Fox said inside her mind. ‘That reaction looked very genuine.’

‘I believe he has been operating for several years, Fox. Class threes given sufficient time can develop emotional reactions which come close to a class four’s, or a human’s.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Smith,’ Fox said aloud. ‘You’ve worked for Mister Winsford for some time?’

‘I have been Mister Winsford’s manservant for seven years, Captain Meridian. You are quite sure that he is dead, I assume?’

‘Quite sure. They’re conducting the autopsy this morning. He was found dead last night. Were you aware that Mister Winsford sometimes went to a club called Sheela Na Gig?’

‘I was not.’

‘Okay. Did Mister Winsford have an appointment of any kind for last night, twenty-two hundred until twenty-three hundred?’

‘Mister Winsford had the evening of the seventh from nine p.m. until one a.m. booked for personal time. He left the apartment at eight thirty. I ordered him an autocab which was to take him to his club. That was the Blackburn Club on Park Avenue. He enjoyed the atmosphere there and went there whenever he could spare an evening.’

‘Okay, Smith. Thank you. I need to look around here and I’ll be sending a forensics team in later today. I may need you to go with them when they leave so that we can check over your data.’

‘O-of course, Captain. I am at your disposal. I… I am unsure what I should do now. Mister Winsford was my owner and now he is dead. What happens now?’

Fox frowned, unsure of exactly how to deal with a class three who clearly had a lot more development than she would have expected. ‘I am not honestly sure, Smith. You work with my technicians and I’ll try to find out for you. I’m sure this kind of thing is legally covered. I haven’t gained access to Mister Winsford’s will yet. There may be mention of you in that.’

‘Yes. I believe I will run through a recharge-and-rest cycle in my room. If you have need of me, I can be summoned by voice command from any room.’

‘Sure.’ Fox watched the android stalk away toward the back of the apartment. ‘Shit,’ Fox said silently, ‘notifying humans of someone’s death is usually bad, but that was somehow worse.’

‘Smith’s entire purpose in life has just been taken away from him,’ Kit replied. ‘He has clearly become attached to his owner and spent enough time around humans that he has picked up strong emotional reactions. Legally, he is property and part of Mister Winsford’s estate. That condition may or may not change when the new rights laws are passed.’

‘Remind me to talk to the Foundation about that, and make sure there’s an AI psychologist with the forensics team when they come to pick him up. Now let’s see what the rest of Winsford’s place is like.’

The lounge looked a lot like the lobby: lots of panelled walls and old-looking furniture. It was, Fox thought, conservative as befitted the man, but there was a distinct sensation of masculinity about what could have been a rather feminine decorative scheme. Furniture with lion’s-claw feet and heavy, scrolled armrests. Two huge portraits of Winsford looked down from either side of the room. There was very little in the way of virtual decoration, but the only display device in the room was a virtual screen.

‘Winsford had an implant?’ Fox asked as she checked the drawers in the small desk that sat against one wall.

‘Yes, but he had been dead too long. Nothing was salvageable.’

‘Figures. What do you have on this “Blackburn Club” Smith mentioned?’

‘It’s described as a “gentlemen’s club,” though it admits female members. It is legally required to. However, checking references to those on LifeWeb who have indicated they are members seems to indicate that it is almost exclusively used by white males with a distinct statistical trend toward older men. Not old men, but older. Forties and fifties, though Sherman Wayden is a member.’

‘That might explain how they met. Maybe why Winsford was so hooked into Wayden.’ Fox picked a door at random and walked out of the lounge. She found a bathroom which looked like it was for guests: plush enough to look at, but lacking in items like toothbrushes and deodorant. There was also a small kitchen – it seemed that Winsford was not into home cooking – with a door at the back that Fox assumed was to a closet until she opened the door and found Smith standing silently in a support frame. This was his ‘room.’

Fox frowned and closed the door. ‘Do you need a room of your own?’ She walked back out onto the corridor while Kit was considering her answer and found the master bedroom.

‘I honestly have not considered the matter,’ Kit replied. ‘I believe that, since I have not considered it, my answer should be no.’

‘Huh. Maybe. On the other hand, since Sam and Marie haven’t broken up yet and she barely spends any time in her apartment, maybe we should talk to them about you taking over the basement rooms.’ She scanned over the room slowly, recording the basic layout. The bed was big and had thick corner posts. There was a wardrobe built into one wall and a dressing table. A door on one side led to a bathroom that was larger than the guest one and came with shower and whirlpool bath.

‘We could discuss the matter with Sam and Marie,’ Kit said. ‘I suppose it would provide me with a little more independence. Or the appearance of such anyway. Did you notice the loops on the bedposts?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Fox ran her fingers over the bracket mounted to one of the posts. It looked and felt very solid. ‘All four posts. You’d be pushed to tie rope around them but a chain would work.’ Dropping to her haunches, she zoomed in on the painted metal. The bed had been painted or stained white and the bracket was painted to blend in, but there were scratches on the inner surface. ‘Uh-huh, chain, I think. We’ll get this checked.’

Standing, Fox walked to the head of the bed and pulled back the cover, then the pillows. Frowning, she bent to look more closely at the headboard and then she reached out toward the middle of it. From under the nails of her thumb and forefinger, slim strips of metal about half an inch long popped out. Each was flat and slightly ridged at the tips, and she used them to lift a hair strand to look at more closely. ‘Brunette, but too long for Winsford.’ She took an evidence bag from her pocket and put the hair into it. ‘There’s a root. We might get lucky. Meanwhile, I don’t get the feeling that Winsford was the one who got chained to this bed.’

‘He was a switch then,’ Kit suggested. ‘He preferred dominance in his public life and portrayed the same personality in his bedroom, but he switched to submission when the mood took him and he hired Naomi.’

‘Maybe.’ Fox pulled open the nearby drawer on the bedside cabinet. Nothing much to look at: an ebook reader, a blister pack of Painaway. She tried the cupboard door beneath the drawer and found it locked. A quick examination suggested an electronic lock, probably needing Winsford’s implant to unlock it. ‘I want this opened. Get the techs to catalogue the contents. Why would you code-lock a bedside cabinet, I wonder.’

‘Presumably because you preferred that no one knew what was inside it.’

‘And that would be why I really want to know.’

~~~

The only person on Kit’s list of likely suspects who was available for interview was Winsford’s ex-wife, Celia Codnor. She had a slot in her schedule, according to her social secretary, at two p.m., so Kit made the arrangements, and Fox set off by maglev and autocab to get to Codnor’s house in Westhampton Beach.

According to the profile Kit had built up on their interviewee, Codnor had got the house in the Hamptons as part of the divorce settlement which had, as far as Kit could tell, been far better for Winsford than for his wife. ‘She got a relatively fair settlement,’ Kit said as the cab drove out toward the ocean, ‘but Winsford got the majority of the money and the apartment in Manhattan. Ms Codnor got the Westhampton property, but it is an older property and has not seen sufficient investment in flood protection. Ms Codnor has it on the market, but has not sold it yet.’

‘When did the divorce go through?’

‘Sixteen months ago.’

Fox winced. ‘Sixteen months to think things might be better if the old man died, or wind yourself up to seeking revenge. How are we doing on financial records for our persons of interest?’

‘That depends very much on the person. I have Ms Codnor’s financials, but almost everyone else is putting up roadblocks. Even Mister Winsford’s accountant is requesting a warrant. I have already pressed the matter through the legal department.’

‘Keep me informed. If we’re still having trouble in a few days, I’ll go interview the accountant. Uh, just press for Winsford’s data. We don’t have enough to go much into anyone else’s.’

‘Of course. And we’re here.’

It was an overcast day and the large, ranch-style house was not exactly being shown off at its best, but Fox figured it could at least do with the outer walls re-rendering. On the seaward side, there was a wall about a metre high which looked as though it could take a pounding but was going to do little to stave off an Atlantic storm aside from obscuring the view a little. The place had to be an older build: more modern buildings in the area had to have adequate flood defences and this one did not.

There was a gate blocking the driveway, and that had a security panel mounted beside it. Fox transmitted her ID data to it and waited for only a second before a voice, male and quite pleasant, came over the speaker. ‘Captain Meridian, you are expected. Please come to the door.’ There was a buzz and the gate began to swing open. Fox slipped through before it was fully open and walked down the short drive to the door.

It opened before she got there to reveal a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, but he had the sculpted looks of someone who put a lot of cash into cosmetic work, or an android. His infrared signature suggested the latter.

‘His name is Steve,’ Kit supplied, ‘and he’s a Satyr. That’s the male version of the Sylph model I use. He’s also a class four.’

To Fox, Steve looked like the kind of man you saw on beaches looking for older women to buy them expensive gifts. Tall, tanned, muscular, handsome, but just a little vacant. He was, of course, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. The hair was tightly curled against his scalp, and the tan had a look to it which suggested mixed heritage. It was hardly a warm day, but Steve was dressed in summer-weight, cream slacks and a thin, silky blouse undone to just above his navel.

‘Good afternoon, Captain Meridian,’ he said as she approached. ‘I’m Steve, Celia’s social secretary.’

‘Social secretary my perfectly toned ass,’ Fox said to Kit. Aloud, she said, ‘Perfect, Steve. You’ll be able to tell me where she was last night from twenty-two hundred through to midnight.’

‘Last night, Celia was at home,’ Steve said in his easy-on-the-ears voice. ‘Here, with me. I can provide a more detailed breakdown of the evening, if you need. I can even provide video but, uh, we would need an assurance that that would be securely held.’

Fox found it a little difficult to believe that an AI could manage to sound like a teenager bragging to his friends about the girl he had sex with the night before, but Steve managed it, even adding the knowing smile. ‘That won’t be necessary at this stage. This is a murder enquiry, however. I’m sure you’re aware of the penalties for lying to a detective.’

The smile faded a little, but not excessively. ‘I’m sure you’re aware that my programming wouldn’t let me.’ He stepped back and waved her inside.

‘Yeah, but look at it this way. Since you say Ms Codnor was here with you, I don’t need to verify that unless I have reason to believe you have lied. You’re an exceptional alibi.’

‘I suppose that is something…’

Celia Codnor was stretched out on a lounger in a solarium which jutted out of the house on the seaward side. It was not exactly the weather for it, but there she was, dressed in a silk wrap and holding a martini glass at two in the afternoon on a Sunday. She was attractive, long in the leg and possessed of a slim figure equipped with enhanced breasts. From first impressions, her face was almost all natural with maybe a touch of work to tighten things up. She was in her late fifties and determined not to let it show.

She gave Fox a vaguely disinterested glance and then smiled at Steve. ‘Thank you, darling. Would Miss Meridian like coffee?’

‘No, thank you,’ Fox replied. ‘Captain Meridian doesn’t really need it these days.’

Codnor blinked once. ‘Oh, yes. You’re…’ She waved a hand in Steve’s direction. He was still hanging around, apparently waiting to be needed. ‘You’re like Steve.’

‘Not really, but we’re both infomorphs. Coffee doesn’t do much for either of us. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that your ex-husband is dead. I’d heard the divorce was less than amicable, but I have to say you don’t seem even slightly broken up about it.’

‘Well, I’m not.’ Codnor sipped her martini. ‘The man was a monster and, when I finally couldn’t stand him any more, he stiffed me royally on the settlement. Then, just to spite me, he made sure I was basically a social pariah.’ She had a Boston accent, and it was getting thicker is she became more animated.

‘A monster?’ Fox queried.

‘He–’ Codnor stopped and glowered at the sky through the solarium window. ‘I had to sign a contract as part of the settlement. I’m not allowed to discuss our private life. With anyone.’

‘That would be a civil contract and I would be here regarding a murder enquiry, Ms Codnor.’

‘I could be sued–’

‘Who is going to sue you? Winsford’s dead. If his estate tries it, you’re covered by submitting to my investigation, and the details are only going to be released in court if they are relevant to a trial. Or I can have a subpoena issued to have you present this before an evidentiary court, which won’t do either his or your reputation any good.’

Codnor gave a sigh and swung her legs down, placing her glass on a small table. ‘I met Thomas just over twenty years ago. He was handsome and charming, and he romanced me like a real gentleman. I grew up in Boston, but I liked the social scene in New York, so I’d moved down six months earlier. I wasn’t expecting to find a husband, but there he was and it seemed like a match made in Heaven. Quite soon after we were married, it became apparent that Thomas wanted a wife to fit with the political image he was trying to project. I was there to be the attractive “little woman” on his arm when he went to events and parties.’

‘Hardly monstrous,’ Fox said. ‘Political marriages have existed for centuries and I don’t see that ending any time soon.’

‘Agreed, but I believe most of them are mutual arrangements. I was conned. It wasn’t simply his indifference. In fact, I would say his attention was worse.’

‘He hit you?’

‘No, no. Well, in a manner. He spanked me. It’s not quite the same. At first it was infrequent, but after five or six years, he was incapable of getting it up without some form of kink. He liked tying me down, gagging me. The more it went on, the more I began to hate him, and the more it seemed that his little tricks were failing to work. He took pills to get an erection and… and I started to become convinced that he was slipping me something to get me in the mood. I have no proof, Captain Meridian. I could never find anything in the house he might have given me. I was convinced he was getting sex elsewhere as well, but I could never find proof of that either.’

‘Have you ever heard of a club named Sheela Na Gig?’ Fox asked.

‘No. He belonged to the Blackburn Club and that is basically a little boys’ club. Little boys who think women are good for precisely one thing. I’m convinced they covered for him when he was out with a mistress.’

‘Mm. I suppose this is a pointless question, but can you think of anyone who would wish to harm Thomas Winsford?’

Codnor barked out a laugh. ‘Oh, Captain, I am quite sure you have already looked at Thomas’s voting history and the people he has come into contact with through that. If I could give you a list of all of them, we would be here until next year. That said, I doubt any of them would actually kill to be rid of him. If one started doing that, it would be open season on all of them.’

‘What about personal threats? People with a personal rather than a political grudge.’

‘Um, no. Thomas had few real friends. One of his better attributes, however, was that if you did become a friend, it was a true friendship. He would never betray a friendship and his friends knew that and did not betray him.’ Codnor gave a shrug. ‘Of course, he may have made someone hate him in the last few months, but no one I knew would wish him harm. Unless he did have a mistress and she has more guts than I do.’

~~~

‘Busy day?’ Naomi asked as Fox crossed the room to sit down on one of the sofas in the very comfortable, but somehow austere, Sister Superior’s apartment in the chapter house. Naomi was back in the usual costume of the Sisters of Corruption: a tunic which showed off the wearer’s breasts and had a black cross design fixed over the white front panel, a black skirt cut to show off a lot of leg and quite a lot of ass, white stockings on suspenders, and white pumps with a two-inch platform and six-inch heels. She had dispensed with the wimple, but she still looked more like Naomi than she had in flat shoes and a jumpsuit.

‘Less busy than I’d wish, to be honest,’ Fox replied, ‘but I had to go out Westhampton way to interview the ex-Mrs Winsford.’

Naomi nodded and poured two cups of coffee. Fox did not comment: there was a difference between coffee with a friend and coffee with a stranger. ‘A somewhat bitter woman, from what I’ve heard, but I believe she had reason.’ Naomi pushed one of the cups toward Fox and smiled. ‘You want to know why I took Winsford as a client and, perhaps, why he wanted to use me as a dominatrix.’

‘I think I can guess the last one, but let’s hear it.’

‘Yes, of course. We promise the anonymity of our clients unless they choose to waive that right. Since Winsford was my client, I was bound to keep his secret. As to why I even accepted him…’ Naomi frowned at her coffee for a second. ‘It pains me to say this about another human being, but Thomas Winsford was a total asshole.’

Only Fox’s lightning reflexes stopped her spluttering coffee all over the cream sofa. ‘You know, that was the impression I got from his wife, but I was wondering whether you could clarify.’

Naomi gave a small shrug. ‘Much of this is based upon observation. I’ve never had a chance to properly analyse the man. He hated women. I suspect he had some form of traumatic or inappropriate relationship with someone, perhaps his mother. His past history indicates nothing of the kind, but there must have been something. He hired a couple of Sisters early on, but his reaction to them if they were not sufficiently strong was unpleasant and occasionally violent. I took him on and forbade anyone else from taking him. Why didn’t I simply tell him he was no longer welcome? First, he made threats about what he thought he could do to make life harder for us and our analysis suggested he might have been able to achieve some of them. Second, I did not wish him to move on to anyone else. I could control him and give him what he wanted. I believe that without that he might have done significant harm to another woman.’

‘Huh. I see why you didn’t want to mention this on the record.’

‘It would seem to give me a motive for killing him, yes. I would not, but more, I did not need to. I knew that he was addicted to what I did to him. He thought he had it under control, but he did not. And he knew, because I told him that if he ever did enact any of his threats, he would not only lose his source of pleasure, but I would resign from the Church and go public. We would ruin each other, but he had more to lose.’

‘If you really believe that, you’re lying to yourself,’ Fox said. ‘The Church of Saint Nicholas is your life, Naomi.’

‘Yes. Well. He never realised that. I don’t believe he thought women were capable of such conviction. If Thomas Winsford had ever got what he really wanted, women would no longer be able to vote and, quite possibly, would be considered the property of their husbands. He was an entirely horrible, tiny-minded man and I can’t really say I’m sorry he’s dead, though I did offer up a prayer for him when I got back last night.’

‘Really?’

‘It was a very short prayer…’

~~~

‘So, how is Fox?’ Naomi asked as she pulled off her pumps. ‘We haven’t really spoken much since… the summer.’

Fox picked up the glass of wine Naomi had poured and took a large sip. ‘Since Jason died.’ Naomi had persuaded her to stay for the evening meal, which had been fun since they had gone down to the refectory and eaten with the other residents of the house, chattering about nothing much for a while. Now they were back in Naomi’s apartment, with wine.

‘I won’t insult you with my usual responses to someone’s death, especially considering the nature of the people who caused Jason’s.’ With her shoes gone, Naomi began to massage her toes.

Fox nodded. ‘Thank you, but I should point out that I haven’t been avoiding you because they called themselves Christians and you are one. What Promised Land were up to had nothing to do with Christianity and little to do with religion. No, I was avoiding everyone. I actually had a lot of work to do too, but I was busy feeling sorry for myself and I didn’t want to be reminded about people.’

‘And you’re over that now?’

Fox frowned. ‘No. But I’m willing to let my friends back in. I went out to Topeka for Christmas, spent New Year watching Sam and Marie get drunk. Seriously, not being able to get drunk is a major fault in this design. And doing proper fieldwork is helping. I feel like I have a purpose again, instead of being a paperwork automaton.’

‘Would you indulge my curiosity? What has happened to the Promised Land people?’

‘Montcairn was judged sane, tried and convicted of a list of charges so long they’re meaningless, and he’s now serving a sentence which would require some form of miracle to complete in a cell in Cold Harbour. A number of his people were found guilty of lesser crimes, but most of those won’t be seeing sunlight either. The majority of the people on Eden Station were judged to be as much victims as anything. The UNTPP are trying to deprogramme them so they can be released on Earth. Joshua… He was found to be insane. I saw a list of the clinical terms, but it came down to him being bat-shit crazy. He’s in the psychiatric facility at Cold Harbour and I seriously doubt he’ll ever be released. He was broken, Naomi. Me pulling his world apart broke him. He couldn’t understand why God had let it happen.’ Fox paused, sipped her wine, and gave a bleak smile. ‘Maybe I should have talked to you about it before now.’

Naomi shook her head. ‘I would, I believe, have been little comfort. You don’t believe, but I respect that. You didn’t kill Montcairn, and I believe it must have been a great temptation. You do what should be done without the belief that you’ll be rewarded in Heaven and that is a truly Christian attitude.’ She grinned. ‘Sorry, but the Sisters of Corruption are a somewhat unorthodox branch of the faith.’ Straightening up, she flexed her toes a couple of times. ‘Sometimes I wish I had metal bones.’

‘Plastic,’ Fox corrected.

‘I thought they were metal. Some alloy MarTech had cooked up.’

‘Uh-huh, in the combat frame they are, but in this one they’re plastic. It’s a high-density plastic, pretty tough, but not metal. I swapped over to using this one most of the time on Monday. It’s got a lot longer between charges and the maintenance cycle is a year instead of a couple of weeks.’

‘Oh.’ Naomi frowned a little, obviously trying to spot any differences. ‘Is that one like Kit’s? A Sylph model?’

‘It’s new, and this one was customised a bit for me anyway. It’s a Mielikki, named after some huntress goddess, but a lot of the basic structure is based on the Sylph. This one has a load of stuff shoehorned in to handle investigations. The idea is to have these, and the male version, partnering with beat cops in some areas, but the AI isn’t ready yet. Terri will be supervising the validation when she gets back from the Moon. Hey, speaking of AIs, how are things going with the committee?’

The most senior of Sisters gave a most ungracious grunt of displeasure. ‘What was supposed to be a three-month consultation period is now expected to run to six, but I don’t think they’ll be able to extend it beyond that. We should be reporting our initial findings on the twenty-second of February, unless someone can think of a way of delaying it. Don’t you get this from Jackson? He’s been sitting there looking irritated as much as I have.’

‘He’s mostly there for the technology and he’s not the greatest mind in the world when it comes to reading people. Nonhuman rights are… kind of a big thing for me, you know?’

Naomi flashed a grin. ‘I was aware. I think there’s general support for a Luna City-style legislative structure. Artificial life forms will be entered into an indentured servitude contract to pay off their purchase costs. Ownership programming will be enforced during that time. They are still arguing over the honesty requirement, but I believe it’ll be dropped except under specific circumstances. Your police AIs, for example, should be programmed to obey the law. Jackson is trying to work out how this will apply to existing technology and there’s a group trying to work out legalities regarding existing AIs. Oh, and we’re still arguing over whether this will apply to class threes as well as class fours. We’ve already decided that anything less complex is essentially considered a machine.’

‘Huh. You should meet Thomas Winsford’s servant. Class three, but you’d think he was a four if you talked to him. I think you need a test for class threes. Eventually, they’re going to develop enough emotional response to fall under the legislation. And there’s also the situation where an owner dies to consider. Smith, Winsford’s servant, is in the position of not knowing what’s going to happen now his owner’s dead. It’s… pitiable.’

‘Why haven’t you been in to give evidence to the committee?’

‘No one asked. And I wasn’t feeling like a good ambassador for infomorphs until recently.’ Fox smirked. ‘I still have a strong desire to feed a lot of humans through a mulching machine.’

‘A lot? That’s better than all of us, I suppose.’

‘Oh no, there are some I’d prefer to keep around.’

Naomi sipped her wine. ‘I hope I’m one of them.’

‘Uh-huh. You’d be my sex slave.’

‘Well, my future is looking up.’

9th January.

‘We have the forensic reports through from Mister Winsford’s apartment and from Naomi’s bloodwork,’ Kit said as Fox walked into the murder room. Given that they both spent a lot of time in a virtual apartment, they had decided to extend it where needed, and one of those extensions was the integration of their virtual murder rooms. They were accessed via an elevator which would have been in the street at the front of the house in reality.

‘Highlights?’ Fox said.

‘Naomi was drugged. A fast-acting sedative similar to flunitrazepam, aka Rohypnol. I assume that takes Naomi off the suspect list?’

‘Not entirely. It could have been self-administered. It validates her story and we’d need something fairly concrete to suggest she did it.’

‘Good. The hair you found on the bed could not be matched to anyone on record. They are attempting a facial estimate based on the DNA. That is the bad news.’

‘There’s good news? More good news?’

‘Yes. Uh, well, I suppose it’s not good… The locked cupboard beside the bed contained leather cuffs and chains. Paint on the chains suggests that these were used for attaching someone to the bed. Skin cells taken from the cuffs indicate that several women – all the DNA was female – have worn them. One of those was the hair donor. Again, no ID matches yet, but they are still processing the entire set.’

‘So, he’s been picking up women, chaining them down, and having sex. A number of women. Yet none of them ever said anything?’

‘That may be explained by the collection of drugs found in the cupboard with the cuffs and chains. The labs are still examining them, but he had Cupie in there, the date-rape drug, and Rockit, a form of erection enhancer made illegal due to its side effects.’

Fox gave a half-smile. ‘I’m aware of Rockit. If he was taking that, he’d have probably killed himself soon enough. That’s if he didn’t lose the ability to get any form of erection first.’

‘There was another chemical found. As yet, it remains unidentified. The lab is working on finding out what it does.’

‘That’s not good. I don’t like unknown, new drugs. God only knows what we could end up with there. Have the lab put a priority on that, assuming they haven’t already.’

‘They have. If anything, I think they were more concerned about it than you are.’

‘Uh-huh. And the question is, what was Winsford doing with it?’

~~~

The Blackburn Club was a large, grey building. Thirteen or fourteen storeys with the bottom three in grey stone and grey brick above that. It looked like it had been an apartment block at some point and still had one of those green awnings set up outside the main door to let people get from their vehicle to the door without getting wet. Fox was somewhat glad of that since the day was grey and damp with frequent uncomfortable drizzle. The liveried doorman, human rather than android, held the door of her autocab and then opened the door of the building, though he looked a lot like he was expecting her to walk straight back out again.

The building had been renovated extensively in the 2030s, according to what Kit had dug up, and that had included widening the lobby. Or Fox doubted the apartment building’s lobby had been much more than a hall and this was a reasonably sized room with a couple of chairs for waiting on, and a little counter where a receptionist, also male but dressed in a suit, sat.

‘Captain Tara Meridian, Palladium Security Solutions, to see Mister Chorney,’ Fox said before the man could speak. He looked the kind to sneer, and he looked as though he was going to, really soon, if he thought she had no business there.

There was a flicker of a sneer which shifted quickly to a flat expression; Fox’s ID data had verified and the receptionist was essentially required to appear neutral. ‘Of course, Captain. Mister Chorney is expecting you. Please take the elevator on your right to floor fourteen. Mister Chorney will meet you there.’

‘Thank you,’ Fox replied and walked over to the elevator as its doors opened. There was no need to actually press the button for the fourteenth floor – it lit up as soon as she was inside – but there was an old-style bank of buttons, including one marked B for basement, and no button marked 13. Well, everyone had their little hang-ups.

Alexander Chorney was a slim, handsome man with broad enough shoulders to give that triangular body style a lot of people went for. His suit was smart, slate grey with a paler pinstripe, and his tie was thin and picked up the paler grey of the stripe. Kit had discovered that he was third-generation Russian immigrant and it showed a little in the square jaw and high cheekbones. His hair was short and dark blonde and his eyes were a cool blue with a dark limbal ring. When he spoke, there was absolutely no Russian to be heard in his voice; it was all New York. ‘Captain Meridian. What can the Blackburn Club do for you today?’

Fox stepped out of the elevator, though she got the impression that Chorney did not really want her to. ‘I need to verify the movements of one of your members, Mister Chorney.’

‘I see. Why don’t you come into my office?’

The elevator opened onto a corridor and Chorney’s office was at the end of it, marked ‘Manager’s Office.’ There was another door to the left of it with ‘Private’ on the plaque attached to it. Fox decided that was probably Chorney’s apartment. The club had a number of members-only rooms on the lower levels, but there were rooms on the upper floors where members could stay. Kit had discovered, for example, that Sherman Wayden stayed in the club almost exclusively when he visited New York.

The office itself was comfortable but relatively utilitarian. The furniture was modern and masculine. The desk was large and featured a black-glass surface and chromed legs. There was a high-backed leather chair behind it while the chairs in front of it were smaller. Shelves around the walls picked up the black-and-chrome look and were there to support various bits of sports memorabilia and a few framed photographs, all of men.

Chorney took the seat behind the desk and motioned for Fox to take one of the others. She ignored him and remained standing. ‘Thomas Winsford,’ she said. ‘I’d imagine you’ve heard that he’s dead?’

‘I saw the news bulletins. They were uninformative, but I assumed that you wished to speak about him when your PA asked for a meeting. He was, I assume, murdered if you’ve been assigned, Captain.’

‘This is a homicide enquiry, yes. His android told me he left his apartment at twenty thirty on the seventh, Saturday, and that he was coming here. Autocab records say he arrived at twenty forty.’

Chorney smiled, even if his eyes remained flat. ‘You wish to know whether he actually entered the club, of course. The issue is that what our members do when–’

‘I don’t care what he did here, or who he met. At this stage. I know he came here by cab, and I know he went to a ten p.m. appointment, which he was there for. I simply need to know when he left here and if he actually came in.’

The smile remained fixed. ‘Our member’s privacy is our highest priority, Captain Meridian. If you were to obtain a warrant…’

‘I’d have thought that was trumped by the need to find out who killed your member, Mister Chorney. Whether he entered, when he left. Just that and nothing more.’

‘I’m sorry–’

‘Kit,’ Fox said, and Kit appeared beside her, dressed in her pencil skirt outfit and glasses, and holding a legal pad and pen. ‘Get me a warrant for any and all materials and documents regarding membership of the Blackburn Club, including a full member list and the entry and exit times of all members on Saturday seventh and Sunday eighth of January twenty sixty-two.’

‘Of course, Captain,’ Kit said, scribbling notes on her pad.

‘Any and all…’ Chorney sputtered a little and then got himself under control. ‘You’ll never get it. There are a number of judges in our membership.’

‘And I have the legal departments of Palladium and MarTech Group available, and they know a few judges too. Female ones. It’s going to take a little time to get the warrant, but then I’ll be back with a full computer forensic team and I assure you that we won’t be especially quiet about it.’ Fox leaned forward, resting her hands on his polished desk. ‘New year, Mister Chorney, new policing. I’d imagine you voted for it and now you have it. So there’s no precinct eighteen bowing and scraping over the rich and prestigious. If you put petty roadblocks in the way of a homicide investigation, I will make your life just as painful as you make mine.’

Chorney glared at her for long enough to realise that she was not joking, but then he had probably forgotten that it was hard to outstare a gynoid. He turned his head to look at a virtual display he was keeping private. ‘Mister Winsford signed in at twenty forty-one. He left at twenty-one fifty having requested a cab. He did not give destination details at that time. If that’s all?’

Fox flashed him a smile. ‘Thank you. Kit, cancel that warrant. I’ll see myself out.’ Turning, Fox headed for the office door with something of a spring in her step.

Chorney looked down at his desk and frowned. The glossy, black surface was still just as glossy. He had expected to see her handprints marring the polished surface, but there was nothing. It was as though she had never been there.

~~~

‘So, what do you have on Alexander Chorney?’ Fox asked as she rode back home in an autocab. Her next appointment was not until eleven and it was barely ten a.m.

Kit resolved herself in Fox’s sensorium, sitting beside her in the cab. ‘The Blackburn Club was founded in twenty thirty-four by the current Mister Chorney’s grandfather. He died five years ago, but Alexander Chorney has been effectively running the club for eight years. He’s twenty-eight, unmarried, and has had no long-term relationships. The club makes a substantial amount of money. Mister Chorney is not a poor man, but he does not fall into the same income categories as many of his clients.’

‘The grandfather passed the running of the club to his grandson?’

‘Yes. It appears that Alexander’s father never wanted anything to do with the place. He lives in Boston Metro with his wife of thirty-one years and his two daughters, twenty-eight and twenty-six. It may be notable that Alexander’s grandfather went through four wives. My belief is that Alexander takes after his grandfather.’

‘Huh. Well, he didn’t like giving me some very basic information. I know Winsford didn’t die there, so what’s he hiding? That was not just keeping his members’ business private. I suppose it’s vaguely possible that he just didn’t like giving in to a woman.’

‘I have managed to find mention of the Blackburn Club on a number of feminist websites. I think it is more than vaguely likely. Though I should point out that a number of those sites give somewhat rabid reports on the misogyny of the club.’

Fox shrugged. ‘Rabid is the only way to get attention on the internet unless you already have a huge following. I’m pretty sure they’re up to something that at least bends the law a lot, but I don’t know what and I don’t have cause to go looking. We’ll just keep digging into Winsford’s friends and enemies and see where that gets us.’

~~~

By four thirty in the afternoon, digging had uncovered precisely nothing, and Fox was quite sure that she would have had a headache but for her lack of an organic brain. Score one more for a cybernetic body.

Everyone she had talked to had been pompous and absolutely sure of their various convictions, and every one of them had exploded into affronted disbelief when asked where they had been at the time Winsford had been murdered. They seemed to think it was some personal insult that Fox had asked to interview them. ‘This never would have happened when we had NAPA running things’ came up a lot, despite the fact that every single one of them had campaigned for the private policing resolution.

‘This is why I hate politics,’ Fox said as she walked down the corridor in her apartment, heading for the lounge. ‘Politics leads to politicians. Nothing good ever came of politicians.’

Belle appeared in the hall, just ahead of Fox. The house AI’s avatar never seemed to change: always the same blue suit, always the powder-blue hair and the slightly deferential attitude. Maybe this time there was a reason for the deference, however. ‘Fox, Senior Operative Candler has just arrived and is requesting a moment of your time.’

‘Fuck!’

‘I am sorry, I–’

‘Not your fault.’ Fox spun on her heel and started back toward the stairs. ‘Let him in. Keep an eye on him. I’ll meet him in the hall.’

Blonde and handsome, Senior Operative Blake Candler was standing in the front hall of the house without his mirrored shades on, which meant Fox could see the man’s rather pleased expression at the sight of her trotting down the wide staircase toward him. The shades were missing, but he was still in a suit: slate grey and immaculate, coupled with a white shirt and dark-blue tie. His wardrobe had got a little better since he had been given the job of police liaison officer for New York Metro; even if his rank had not gone up, his salary had.

‘Captain Meridian,’ Candler said, smiling what Fox determined to be a diplomatic smile. ‘Always a pleasure to see you, but you’ve been holding out on me.’

Fox raised an eyebrow and waved for him to follow as she walked past him and into the lounge. ‘I can’t think of anything that’s come across my desk that NIX needs to be aware of. Have a seat.’ Fox took one of the sofas and waited for Candler to take the one opposite.

‘Thomas Jefferson Winsford,’ Candler said as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down, leaning forward slightly and resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

‘What about him?’

‘A politically motivated murder needs to be reported to–’

‘Have you actually seen the crime scene reports, Special Operative? I haven’t been notified of a request for them.’

‘Uh, no, but you’ve been questioning a number of people and we’ve been made aware of the case.’

‘Martin Fitznorton,’ Fox said flatly.

‘I’m not at liberty to discuss the source of–’

‘You don’t need to. Fitznorton is even more conservative than Winsford was. He sees terrorists on every street corner and he thinks there are Caliphate bombers hiding under his bed. This isn’t a terrorist case, Blake. This was personal. It’s about Winsford and, maybe, his somewhat hypocritical private life. I’m only interviewing people likely to benefit from his death to cover the bases. Whoever killed him, they had a personal reason for doing it.’

Candler was an odd one for a NIX agent, as far as Fox was concerned. He looked the part, and he was loyal to NIX. He seemed to believe that the intelligence agency’s reputation was undeserved, which Fox considered naïve, but he had a strong sense of duty to the country he worked for. Indeed, to Fox anyway, it seemed like Candler thought of himself as working for America, not NIX. Maybe that was why they had made him liaison for the New York area, interfacing with a woman who had plenty of reason to believe anyone to do with national security was untrustworthy. Fox was willing to play the game: they had got onto a first-name basis in the couple of short meetings they had managed in December.

‘You don’t think that’s a little naïve?’ Candler asked. ‘You don’t think a terrorist cell would try to cover up a death like this somehow?’

‘No. They’d want it splashed all over the media. Look, first off, do you have any intelligence indicating a Caliphate cell operating in this metro?’

Candler pursed his lips for a second and then shook his head. ‘What about UA?’

‘Not United Anarchy’s style. In summary, Winsford liked to hire a dominatrix periodically so he could roleplay S&M scenes. My information is that the only way he could get it up without drugs was to be tied up and whipped. The arch-conservative, anti-prostitution vote broker regularly hired a licensed prostitute and, from the setup in his bedroom, he liked chaining women to his bed, feeding them Cupie and himself Rockit, and then getting down to business.’

‘Rockit?’ Unconsciously, Candler’s thighs shifted together. ‘That stuff’ll make your dick drop off.’

Fox gave him a smirk. ‘No, but if you take it long enough, not even Rockit will get you to stay up. It destroys the blood vessels in your penis. Uh, well, that can result in gangrene…’

‘Could we change the subject?’

‘Sure. Winsford was out on one of his S&M nights. The killer gained access to the room, drugged the dom, and then spent a while treating Winsford to a real whipping. Then they rammed a foot-long dildo up his ass’ – Candler winced at that – ‘and opened various blood vessels. They bled him to death. Fairly slowly. I’d imagine he was in a lot of pain while he died. That’s the pathology of a very violent sex offender, like Reginald Grant, or someone who was in it to make Winsford suffer. I’d say the violent penetration and the choice of venue are important, but I’m not entirely sure yet. I think this was revenge for something. Rape or sexual assault seem likely.’

‘Huh. Well, I agree it’s not UA’s style. They’d have blown him up at some event or just gathered evidence to discredit him. I’m going to ask for the case files because my superiors are going to want me to have a good reason for not looking at this.’

Fox nodded. ‘Fair enough. You and your superiors are going to have to learn to trust me, but trust is earned. I was the one who came up with most of the antiterrorism methodology that went through, remember? I’ve got a vested interest in seeing it work and I’d get crucified if I didn’t bring you something I thought fell into the national security category pretty much as soon as I thought it.’

Candler nodded and got to his feet. ‘Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I guess it’s just that this is the first time anything like this has come up and I’ve got some pressure to look at it. I’ll let you get on with solving the case.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Fox got up to escort him to the door.

‘Of course, coming down here to see you isn’t exactly a chore, you know? Maybe I was just using this as an excuse.’

Fox opened the door and looked out. There was drizzle falling again, the kind of rain that didn’t look much but it managed to soak into everything after a few minutes. ‘Looks like you’re going to pay for it if that’s the case.’

Candler gave a shrug as he walked out into the rain. ‘Could be snowing,’ he said as he walked away.

10th January.

Fox was riding the BQ-line down from northern Manhattan when Kit signalled a call through from Naomi. The Sister was looking mildly annoyed and harassed when her image appeared, but she forced a smile. ‘Fox. Good afternoon. Getting anywhere with the case? You look a little weary.’

‘Huh,’ Fox replied. ‘Imagine how I’d look if I was still organic. In the official jargon of police everywhere, I am pursuing all angles to attempt to resolve the case with speed.’

‘That’s a no then.’

‘I’ve been interviewing people who might have some reason to kill the guy, but none of them really have reason to want to overkill him. What’s up? You look like I feel.’

Naomi frowned. ‘I have had approaches from a… Reporter seems the wrong word for someone from IB-two-six-nine, but it’s the word we have.’

‘I prefer “maggot.”’ IB-269 was a gossip channel primarily concerned with New York and Boston, though they were not above digging a little dirt in any of the east-coast metro areas. They had annoyingly good investigative reporters who frequently did not need to cheat to get the information they liked to parade for their audience. They preferred sex scandals; politics was secondary, but worth the time if it was something sensational. If they could get sex and politics in one story, they viewed it as Christmas at any time of the year.

‘Well, one of their maggots has made a couple of attempts to reach me for comment on the Winsford murder. Someone has told them Winsford’s wholesome image was rotten at the core, I think.’

Fox gave a shrug. ‘It was bound to happen. He may have been careful about it while he was alive, but his death was semi-public. I was thinking it might have lasted another couple of days…’

‘I think not. IB-two-six-nine will put something out today. You know they won’t keep back something like this just because they get no comments from the people involved.’

‘Yeah. Too juicy. Okay, Naomi. Thanks for the warning.’

~~~

The warning came right on time as Fox detected a maggot near the house’s door as she walked down from 46th Street station. He was a well-turned-out maggot, about Fox’s height with a body she doubted he had gained through regular exercise. There was a hint of excessive sculpting about the handsome face which suggested that the body had seen some muscular enhancement and maybe even a little structural work. Pale-blonde hair hung to the nape of his neck in a carefully manufactured style which attempted to look entirely casual. He was tanned, had unnaturally blue eyes, and then there was the smile which almost glowed, despite the overcast sky. His suit was probably something more than grey: there was a vaguely reflective quality that suggested it turned silver in the right light. Whatever the case, the suit was expensive. Probably very expensive.

‘Zak Zaff,’ Kit supplied as Fox approached and the man waited, smiling. ‘He’s with IB-two-six-nine. On-stream talent and investigative reporter.’

‘That’s “digs his own shit and throws it at the audience himself,” Kit,’ Fox replied. Aloud she said, ‘Mister Zaff, what can Palladium Security Solutions do for IB-two-six-nine?’

Pleasure at being recognised appeared to war, briefly, with annoyance at the same time. ‘Miss Meridian, I’m looking into the death of Thomas Jefferson Winsford, and–’

‘It’s Captain Meridian, and the Winsford case is active, which means I can’t discuss any details of it.’

Of course, Zaff was not to be put off by small details like that. ‘Information has come into my possession suggesting a possible motivation for Mister Winsford’s murder. I was hoping to get your reaction to that. If you don’t wish to give me that reaction, well, I can go on-stream with what I have…’ He tapped his lapel where a small body camera was sitting, facing Fox.

Fox smiled and Zaff proved he had instincts because his own smile faltered for a fraction of a second. ‘Mister Zaff, if you have information pertinent to my investigation, and you have not communicated that information to myself or Palladium Security Solutions, I will have you arrested and charged with obstruction of justice.’

‘First Amendment, baby! You can’t–’

‘The First Amendment guarantees you the right to publish what you like, not withhold evidence, but… I’m quite sure you don’t have anything pertinent that I don’t already know. So, here’s your reaction. Palladium Security Solutions takes every criminal investigation seriously and is determined to bring Thomas Jefferson Winsford’s murderer to justice. We are following all leads, pursuing all angles, and will continue to do so until that justice is done. Goodbye, Mister Zaff.’

Turning, Fox walked up to the door of her house and pushed through. ‘He’s going to go live with his “information” no matter what,’ Kit observed into Fox’s mind.

‘Uh-huh. However, maintaining the reputation of an asshole like Winsford isn’t part of my job. Send a message through to PR about this and we’ll see what happens.’

~~~

‘The little worm tried to get a comment out of me earlier,’ Marie said as she sat with Fox and Sam, in Sam’s lounge, watching the stream from IB-269.

‘Naomi and I decided he was a maggot,’ Fox replied.

‘That seems fair. I blew him off.’

‘Seems fair.’

‘He seems to have managed to get a reasonable amount of information from somewhere,’ Sam commented.

Fox gave a shrug. ‘Nothing I didn’t already know, as I said, and a lot less than there was to get. It might be interesting to find out where he got it from, but I somehow doubt it. If this comes to trial, all this would come out anyway.’

‘There could be some blowback to the Sisters.’

‘I’m going to say no… He knows Naomi’s involved, but he’s not willing to go up against her memetics people without confirmation. All he’s come out with is that Winsford used a professional dominatrix. That’s enough scandal to make the story juicy so he doesn’t need to risk pissing her off. He hasn’t used the recording he made of me for the same reason. He’s got a nice, juicy story about a vote broker who privately did everything he denounced in public. The only thing he’s got wrong is the inference that Winsford was murdered because of his hypocrisy.’

‘You’re sure he wasn’t?’ Sam asked.

‘Not absolutely sure, but that’s not how this reads to me. This was personal. Very personal.’ Fox glanced at Marie. ‘What were you doing out anyway? Shooting’s finished for M.J., right?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Marie replied. ‘Unless we need to do any reshoots anyway. I’m doing a lingerie commercial. Recording today and tomorrow. I was a little dubious, but it’s kind of stylish. Lots of soft focus and mood lighting.’

‘Lingering boob shots?’

‘Now you mention it…’

‘You realise this means we may have to watch a commercial?’

Marie gave a shrug. ‘Maybe you’ll like the product. I think the stuff they’re selling is pretty sexy. Oh! Oh, yeah, Lucy Graves wants me to do some more modelling for her. She’s getting her summer collection ready.’

‘Summer?’ Fox frowned. ‘It’s not even spring yet.’

‘This kind of thing gets done well in advance. She wants to shoot the first week of February.’

‘You’re going to be wearing summer clothes that Lucy designed, in February, in Chicago…’

‘Well, that’s why it’s useful to have an actress doing it. I can act like it’s hot while I’m freezing my tits off.’

~~~

‘The mainstream news channels have picked up the story and are reporting it,’ Kit said. She popped up IB-62’s news programme, muted, but the background still the presenter was talking over told Fox all she needed to know.

‘I assume they’re just reporting the same details as IB-two-sixty-nine?’

‘Yes, Fox, nothing new. Apparently, they have failed to notice that there has been a marked increase in vote movement since IB-two-six-nine began streaming their story and… Yes, that rate has increased again since the evening news streams began.’

Fox shook her head, adding a half-smile of amusement. ‘The rats have noticed the ship’s sinking. Any indication of where the votes are going?’

‘I’ll do a more thorough analysis tonight while you run your sleep cycle, but there seem to be two main benefactors. Mister Winsford had a disproportionate number of male delegates and they are primarily moving to one of his associates, Mister Barrymore Ashburton. One might describe him as a younger version of Mister Winsford, except with regards to his personal preferences. He has a reputation as a womaniser, which may explain why most of Mister Winsford’s female delegates are transitioning to Mrs Malina Totterham. Mrs Totterham is strongly opposed to legalised prostitution and is on record as saying that, despite his espoused values, Mister Winsford was weak on the subject.’

‘Yeah, well, if Winsford had got prostitution criminalised again, he’d have lost his ability to hire Naomi. So, Totterham is probably right.’ Fox examined the two ID images Kit had provided. Ashburton was a man who tried too hard: blonde and blue-eyed, both probably enhanced, and a face that had been sculpted into whatever he considered handsome. Totterham looked as though she had had cosmetic work done too, but the reddish-brown hair and green eyes were probably natural. They were both political animals, just from the slightly predatory gleam in their eyes and the impression of confidence about them. ‘If the vote transfers continue along the same lines, get me appointments to interview both of them tomorrow. I should probably talk to Ashburton anyway if he was an associate of Winsford’s.’

‘They are both members of the Blackburn Club,’ Kit supplied.

‘I am starting to get a really bad vibe about that place.’

11th January.

‘Of course, Winsford never had women’s issues as a priority, but he managed to hold on to some female voters due to his general values. He was always strong on law and order.’

Fox nodded vaguely and kept her opinions on that matter to herself. Malina Totterham was the kind of woman who rarely, if ever, kept her opinions anywhere but in public. In person, Totterham was a mid-height woman with a fit body. She was slim, but her hips and bust were not. The latter was, by Fox’s estimates, enhanced by at least two cup sizes, and her face had been modified more than Fox had got from the publicity still. She was thirty-five and looked a decade younger. On her own ground, in the house she shared with her husband on Madison Avenue, Totterham considered herself queen of all she surveyed, and that appeared to include Fox at the moment.

‘Also quite obviously,’ Totterham went on, ‘those women delegates would be inclined to move to me following Winsford’s death. Certainly, they would not go to Barry Ashburton. The man is slime.’

‘I’ll be interviewing Mister Ashburton this afternoon,’ Fox said.

‘I’d recommend a chastity belt.’

‘I’ll take that under advisement. What was your relationship with Mister Winsford?’

‘That, Miss Meridian, is a matter of public record.’

Fox smiled. ‘It’s captain. Mister Winsford had a public record of strong morality, conservative behaviour and politics, and a general stance against prostitution even if he was not as active in that respect as you. Turns out that his personal position was somewhat different, wouldn’t you say? He was, in fact, more of a secretive man than a private one.’

Totterham’s expression turned cooler. ‘He was certainly more of a hypocrite than I gave him credit for. I believe in everything I stand by in public. I don’t like having a public servant suggesting some form of duplicity on my part.’

‘You voted for private policing, Mrs Totterham. When the metro contracted to Palladium for policing services, as you wanted, you got me and I’m not your servant. Besides,’ Fox went on before Totterham could say anything, ‘it’s not uncommon for people to have disparate views on politics while maintaining a good personal relationship. You were both quite powerful vote brokers on the same side of the fence. You moved in similar circles and attended many of the same functions.’

‘Well, Winsford and I did not have a “good personal relationship.” We made personal attacks on each other. He started that when he saw my delegations rising.’

‘He considered you a threat?’

‘I assume so. However, while I attacked his stance on women and suggested one or two things about his morals which, I might add, appear to be true, his assault on me was more personal. He implied I married for money. On several occasions, he started rumours that I was involved with other men and even that I utilised the services of a prostitute. A female prostitute.’

‘Rumours. I assume you have no actual proof that he started them?’ Totterham glowered, which suggested that was a negative. ‘So, to summarise, you strongly disliked Thomas Winsford, he made personal attacks of a sexual nature on you designed to harm your voting delegations, and now that he’s dead and discredited, your delegations have risen significantly.’

‘Once again, I do not like your implication, Miss Meridian,’ Totterham said coldly.

‘For someone with strong views on women’s rights, you appear to have a problem with women in authority, Mrs Totterham. It’s still Captain Meridian, and I wasn’t implying anything. I summarised what you have told me about your relationship with Mister Winsford. You inferred that I considered you a suspect, but since you’ve made the inference, where were you between nine p.m. and midnight on January seventh?’

‘At a dinner party, with my husband and about eighteen friends. It began at eight and we left just after one. That was in East Hampton. I don’t have a problem with women in positions of power, Captain. I do have an issue with your support of the Sisters of Corruption. I don’t believe a member of our contracted police force should be seen in a position of support for such an organisation.’

Fox got to her feet. ‘Luckily, I’m required to uphold the law, not your opinion of how it should be. I’ll need the names of your hosts on Saturday night, but I’ll get them from your PA.’ She turned for the door of the lounge she had been taken to for the meeting. The place had no v-tagged decoration. Everything was pale wood and old furniture. It looked like a drawing room in some European palace from about two centuries earlier. There was even gold paint on the mouldings around the windows. ‘Nice place you have here. Not to my taste, but it really says “Malina Totterham.”’

‘Uh, thank you. I assume you prefer something more modern.’ There was a hint of a sneer in Totterham’s voice.

‘Well, I went with an Art Deco look. Not especially modern. It’s nice that your husband let you have your way with the decoration.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well, this was his family home, right? You were in that apartment block in Brooklyn before here and, was it Odessa down in Virginia and West before that?’ Fox started walking. ‘Big rise for the girl from Odessa. I’ll see myself out.’

There was the sound of sputtering from behind her, and Fox ignored it to keep on walking. ‘Well done on the research, Kit,’ Fox said silently.

‘We aim to please,’ Kit replied. ‘From my research on Mister Ashburton, however, it appears that Mrs Totterham’s suggestion might be a good one.’

‘Which suggestion was that?’

‘The one about the chastity belt…’

~~~

Barrymore Ashburton had a large, ranch-style house set in a couple of acres of grounds near Sagg Swamp Nature Reserve and not far from the northern end of Sagaponack Pond. It was less than a mile and a half north of Reginald Grant’s old home, though Fox doubted Ashburton had ever known the madman she had left to die on the Moon. Aside from anything else, Grant had been a sociopath with little opinion of other humans, except where he could make use of them or hurt them, and Ashburton appeared to have both a very high and very low opinion of women.

‘It’s a real pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Meridian,’ Ashburton said, his smile and the fact that his eyes were not looking into hers suggesting that pleasure was his main focus.

At a little over five-foot-ten, Ashburton was almost Fox’s height and he had the body to go with his face: sculpted. He was dressed in a lightweight shirt which clung to his chest and upper arms, and slacks which were tight around his thighs, but there was a look about him that suggested none of the muscle came from exercise. He looked, to Fox’s enhanced vision, overstuffed. His features were rugged, and probably enhanced from a reasonable base, but definitely enhanced. His hair had been lightened from a darker blonde and there were very few blue eyes that managed to be quite as blue as his without help. His teeth shone as though bleached and polished by a jeweller, but the smile which showed them off was all lasciviousness.

At least he had remembered her title. ‘Thank you, Mister Ashburton. You–’

‘Please, call me Barry.’

Fox smiled. ‘You were a friend of Thomas Winsford. Is that right?’

‘We met through the Blackburn Club. He’s, uh, he was a little outside the crowd I normally run with, you understand. Older generation, but we shared a lot of the same views. We got on pretty well. Me, him, Sherm, Walker, and Davy.’

‘Sherm? Sherman Wayden?’

‘Yeah. Walker Burrage. Walker’s the New York rep for RAW. Davy Neiman. He… makes adult entertainment.’

‘That would be Rossouw Arms Works,’ Kit supplied, ‘a company based in the South African Federation. They are Wayden Executive Services’ primary small arms supplier.’

‘Interesting,’ Fox replied to Kit. Aloud she asked, ‘Were you aware that Mister Winsford had a standing arrangement to hire a dominatrix when he was inclined to?’

Ashburton’s brow furrowed. ‘Hell no! I still don’t believe that and I don’t like the police trying to blacken–’

‘I can assure you that the evidence is quite clear. I can also tell you that neither Palladium nor the dominatrix in question leaked the information to IB-two-six-nine. Have you ever been to or heard of a club called Sheela Na Gig?’

‘No. Wait… Yes. Davy mentioned it once. Uh… Some sort of fetish club? It’s more Davy’s kind of thing than mine. I’ve got my kinks, but that’s not one of them. Wasn’t Thom’s either. He was a straight-shooter as far as sex went. Used to like some of the stuff Davy produces, but–’

Listening to Ashburton’s delusions regarding his friend were not getting Fox anywhere. ‘Now that Mister Winsford is dead, a lot of his delegations are moving your way.’

‘Well, they probably would have come my way soon enough anyway. Thom was going to retire, or go into government which amounts to the same thing. He’s got… I mean he had an in with the next president. Spend a term in one of the executive positions and then he’d have a shot at the top job.’

Fox gave Ashburton an indulgent smile. ‘I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, Mister Ashburton, but now you get those delegations a good two years early. Could you tell me where you were on Saturday night, say between nine and midnight?’

‘I was here. At home.’

‘Alone?’

‘On a Saturday night? Hell, no. Twins. Identical.’ Ashburton’s smile became a leer. ‘I’d be happy to demonstrate a few of the things we were doing.’

Fox got to her feet and smiled back. ‘And I’d be happy to book you for assault if you tried. I’ll just take the names of your twins and that will be all, Mister Ashburton.’

~~~

David Harold Neiman had what might have been described as a small estate on a promontory jutting out into Shinnecock Bay and bordered on one side by Tiana Bay. When you rolled up at the gates of the walled enclosure, you found out why the house was as large as it was: the sign outside indicated that this was the studios of Neiman Video Productions as well as the personal home of the company’s chairman.

‘He is actually the chairman, CEO, and financial director,’ Kit said as Fox walked up from the waterproof gates to the house. ‘He also produces and directs, and has written scripts for his videos.’

‘A real renaissance man.’

The house was new and looked somehow out of place sitting on the shores of what had been one of the wealthiest areas of Long Island. A lot of the properties on this part of the coast had done badly with the changes in weather. The land was low-lying and strong storm surges had destroyed buildings simply not designed for that level of violence. Neiman had obviously managed to buy up a respectable plot of land, probably because the value of it had dropped alarmingly. The wall around his property was there to hold back the ocean as much as it was for security. The house had gone up in an ultramodern style. There was glass everywhere, but there were also storm shutters mounted to seal off the entire building if required. The central section was two storeys and, from what could be seen of the furniture, it was set up as one big bachelor pad. Leather, chrome, and modern art everywhere. To either side were single-storey extensions. On Fox’s right there was a swimming pool, fully enclosed and with a few people lounging beside it. The other side was blocked out into rooms and Fox was not entirely sure what their purpose was until she spotted a couple in one of the sections engaged in sex, with a cameraman standing over them. That area was the studios. On closer inspection, the people out by the pool were mostly nude.

‘This case is going to put me off sex entirely,’ Fox commented silently.

‘Your sex life is nothing to speak of at the moment anyway,’ Kit replied.

‘Well, yes… This isn’t making me want to get back on the horse.’

The door, or one of the panes of glass, slid aside as Fox approached. She had already determined that Neiman himself was not meeting her at the door, because the person doing so was a beaming, five-foot blonde with truly amazing, rounded breasts barely contained in a cropped top. The girl’s shorts had probably come from a children’s collection, or maybe a doll’s, and looked tight enough to cut off circulation.

‘Hi there,’ the blonde sing-songed. ‘Are you here for the auditions? You’d be pearlescent in the pool scene. Totally terry body, girl. Who did your boobs?’

Fox blinked while Kit giggled silently. ‘I used to say “God,” but now it’s a MarTech cybernetics engineer called Sonya.’

‘Uh…’ The blank look was priceless.

‘I’m not here for the auditions, I’m a cop. My assistant called ahead to ask whether Mister Neiman was available.’

‘We’re up to date on all our permits. Davy said so just last week. Or was that last month?’

‘It’s not about the permits. They don’t send me out on that kind of thing. No one’s in any trouble.’

The blank expression switched into the beaming smile so fast Fox wondered how the girl’s muscles could possibly manage it. ‘Okay! Come in and we’ll go find Davy.’

It was a little like hunting through a surrealist maze. There were structural walls, formed of polymerised concrete as best Fox could tell, but a lot of the space was delineated by glass or transparent plastic which was kept very clean. It made it easy to walk into a wall you had not noticed and Fox shifted her visual spectrum a little to give her a better chance of avoiding that occurrence.

They actually found Neiman, dressed in a gold, silk wrap, in one of the rooms in the studio block. He was sitting on one of those folding cloth chairs with ‘DIRECTOR’ printed on the back, facing six nude women who were all standing there with bored looks on their faces.

Neiman did not look bored. To Fox, the producer, or director, or whatever, looked like a kid who had just been handed a bag of assorted sweets and was delighted at having to pick one, knowing he would get the others later. He was, like Ashburton, handsome, but more of his body and face had come from genetics. He had had his nose reshaped, his cheekbones sharpened, and his eyes turned a deeper blue, but his hair was naturally blonde, quite full and falling to his shoulders in a tousled mess, and he had had minimal muscle grafting done. Fox had seen a workout room through one of the glass walls and it looked like Neiman used it.

The man looked around as Fox walked in with the blonde, who Fox had decided to christen Bubbles until someone supplied a name. ‘Oh,’ Neiman said. ‘Where have you been all my life? Get your clothes off and line up, honey. I don’t got all day.’

Fox sighed and transmitted an ID pulse. ‘I’m Captain Tara Meridian. My PA called to ask if you could answer a couple of questions about Thomas Winsford.’

‘Oh… Oh, yeah. I saw something. I’m in the middle of this casting call. I need someone for–’

‘The pool scene?’

Neiman blinked at her. ‘Uh, yeah, how did you–’

‘All cops can read minds, Mister Neiman. Number two. Second from the left. More athletic, longer legs, but she’s still got boobs.’

‘Uh, yeah, well…’

‘And now we’ve sorted that out, I just need ten minutes of your time. Alone.’

‘Yeah, yeah, right. Piper, get number two there on the standard contract and, uh… Studio four’s empty, right?’

Bubbles, who was apparently Piper, beamed some more. ‘Yes, Davy. They’re shooting the dream sequence in two and the DP scene in one.’ For someone who seemed to have very little up top, or above her chest anyway, Piper seemed to have a good memory. Fox reconsidered the little blonde girl for a brief instant and came to the conclusion that Bubbles fitted her better.

‘Okay. Right,’ Neiman said, getting to his feet and picking up his chair. ‘Thank you, girls. We’ll be in touch if we need more. Sorry if you didn’t make it. Blame the cop.’ And he set off toward the central section of the studio block which was some sort of crossroads between the various rooms. ‘How did you know what we needed for the pool scene anyway?’ he asked, assuming Fox was behind him. She was.

‘Bub– Piper said I’d be good in it. I picked the closest one to my body type. She looked about a D-cup though. Not that I think your clientele would complain.’

Neiman looked back at her as he pushed into another of the recording rooms. ‘No, but they’d sure as Hell be happy enough with you. Shame.’

Studio three was at the back, overlooking the ocean. Or it would have been if not for the huge wall that was in the way. Instead it overlooked a garden, of sorts, which looked like it had been planted up to provide areas they could use for outdoor sets. There were trees in a block, bushes in a block, and a square lawn. There might have been further regions there, out of sight behind the main house. At a guess, this was the largest of the indoor sets, unless the pool room counted, and it was a blank white space at the moment.

‘I thought everything was done with virtual sets these days,’ Fox said. ‘Why do you need the garden? That’s set up for outdoor recording, right?’

‘Oh yeah. Most of it’s done with v-tags and filled in in post. Have to have the furniture, o’course, but that’s mostly standard and dressed in post too. Except… You can’t really do that with sensies. We don’t do so many of those, but if we want to do an outdoor scene for a sensie, we need an outdoors to do it in.’

‘Not at this time of year, I’d imagine.’

Neiman let out a braying laugh. ‘No way. No market for feeling like your balls are freezing off while you bang a bimbo.’

‘Oh God, he’s a sleaze,’ Fox said silently. ‘I thought Ashburton was bad, but…’ Aloud, she asked, ‘I believe you know a club named Sheela Na Gig?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. Bondage place.’ His smile turned leering. ‘Some great talent in that place, even in the public rooms.’

‘You mentioned it to Barrymore Ashburton.’

‘Might have mentioned it around Barry. Mentioned it to Thom Winsford. He’s old, but he likes the BDSM vids I do. Did, obviously. O’course, he looked at me like I was something he’d scraped off his shoe when I suggested the club, but I figure he tried it. You get to know people’s kinks in this business. Thom was into some kinky stuff.’

‘Mm. Did you supply him with anything kinky aside from the bondage vids?’

‘Like what?’

Fox shrugged. ‘Cuffs, chains… drugs.’

‘Fuck no! Cuffs and chains you can get anywhere these days. Drugs would be illegal, right? You’re not talking about prescription stuff.’

Fox smiled. ‘Right. Just for my records, Mister Neiman, could you tell me where you were on Saturday night between nine and midnight?’

‘No, but if you ask Piper, she’ll tell you. I went out clubbing with her and a couple of the other girls. She’ll know where we went and when. I think we got back here about two and we got to sleep about four.’ He was leering again.

‘You and Piper?’

‘Me and all of them. I’ve got a big bed.’

~~~

‘Fox?’ Marie wandered down the corridor in Fox’s apartment, pausing when she heard the shower running. She leaned in through the bathroom door. ‘Fox?’

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ Fox said from the walk-in shower area. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

‘Showering at four in the afternoon?’

‘Washing the slime from two large slugs off.’

The water cut off and the blowers started, and Marie waited for them to stop before speaking again. ‘I thought you had this super-auto-cleaner thing in that body.’

Fox walked out of the shower, stark naked and not the least bit abashed. ‘Sometimes, a shower is more of a symbolic thing than a need for actual cleanliness. How did your modelling gig go? Finished?’

‘We wrapped about three. They seemed happy with it. They’re planning to run four different blips. They’ve bought time with IB-nineteen for the first two weeks of M.J. after the mid-season break. I asked.’

‘Well, Belle records those anyway.’ Fox walked through into her bedroom and pulled a fresh bodysuit out of a drawer. ‘Did you just come up here to chat, or was there something specific?’

Marie shrugged. ‘Chat. Sam’s out with a client. Should be back at six. Hey, do you want to come down and pretend to eat food tonight? Kit too. We haven’t done the “house evening meal” thing in a while.’

‘See what Sam’s mood is like when he gets back. Sometimes he just wants to hide in a corner for an hour or two. But otherwise, sure, why not? Kit?’

Kit’s gynoid avatar walked in through the bedroom door, rather than the bathroom connecting door. ‘I should quite enjoy that, Marie. Thank you.’

Fox nodded. ‘Looks like it’s a date.’

~~~

‘I was wondering,’ Fox said as she put down her knife and fork and relaxed back in her chair. She felt relaxed, and was dressed relaxed having come down in just the black bodysuit she had put on earlier. It was a new, quite simple design – a high-hipped tank with almost no back – but she had taken to wearing them in black after Jason’s death and had not changed back yet. Plain black had developed into something a little translucent with a sparkle in it, but it was still black.

‘You were wondering?’ Sam asked when she said nothing further. He had finished a few minutes earlier and complimented the chef, Marie, on her cooking. Marie had suggested that he should really compliment Belle’s recipe-tutor library.

‘Okay, um, you guys have been seeing each other for a while now. About eighteen months by my reckoning and you haven’t got sick of each other yet. I was wondering whether you’d given any thought to formalising it a bit more.’

‘Marriage?’ Marie asked, frowning. She still had some of the Thai stir-fry she had made on her plate, even though her portion had been smaller than everyone else’s. Marie had noted Fox’s choice of outfit and run off to the bedroom, returning in a burgundy teddy and purple hold-up stockings with matching six-inch, platform pumps. The teddy was mesh with strategic lace in it and it came from the range she had been modelling for the last two days. ‘I don’t think we, um…’

‘I was thinking more of you moving up to Sam’s apartment properly. Rather than keeping the clothes you don’t want in the basement and barely ever going down there.’

Sam’s eyes narrowed. ‘I assume there is an ulterior motive for this concern over our living arrangements.’

‘It’s not concern, it’s… I just thought that Kit should have a space of her own, and if Marie moved upstairs, Kit could use the basement.’

‘I should point out that I do not require additional space,’ Kit said ‘I manage perfectly adequately in Fox’s apartment.’

‘But it would be nice to have somewhere more personal to you,’ Sam said. ‘That I can understand.’

‘Me too,’ Marie said. ‘I don’t really use the rooms downstairs, uh, well, except when Sam has a client in.’

‘Rare,’ Sam said, nodding, ‘but it does happen. I accommodated one out-of-town client overnight once.’ He frowned, crossed his arms, and looked thoughtful. ‘It’s a double bed downstairs, isn’t it?’

‘Uh-huh. Not a big one, but it’s a double.’

‘So, if we did need somewhere for you to hide, Kit could accommodate you for a few hours, or even overnight.’

‘Of course,’ Kit replied. ‘I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.’ She gave Marie a grin which had the actress’s cheeks colouring. ‘And I would pay rent for the space,’ Kit added. ‘I have an income from Palladium which largely accumulates in an account the company set up for me. I really don’t have a great deal to spend money on.’

‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,’ Sam replied, flashing Kit a smile which had the gynoid’s cheeks colouring. Marie giggled. ‘Let’s give it some thought for a few days. If no one can think of a reason why this won’t work, we’ll go ahead. Uh, assuming that you’re amenable with moving in with me, Marie?’

‘I practically live up here anyway.’

‘Yes, but this is a decision to make that, as Fox said, more formal. It’s…’

‘Doing it on purpose instead of the natural osmosis that seems to happen with relationships,’ Fox said.

‘Oh,’ Marie said. ‘I… I don’t think it changes anything. Like you said, let’s think about it.’

‘I think that would be a wise idea,’ Kit said.

‘Good,’ Fox agreed. ‘Hey, I got an actress a part in a vid today?’

‘You did?’ Marie asked, blinking.

‘Uh-huh. Not the kind of thing you’d want to audition for. Well, audition might not be the right word. It was more like a cattle market. Porn vid of some sort.’

‘You move in strange circles, Fox,’ Sam said. ‘What were you doing at a porn audition?’

‘Landing the part if I’d been willing, apparently. I went out to Long Island to interview a guy named David Neiman.’

‘Ah, hence the shower when you got back,’ Marie said, grinning.

‘Yeah. Guy was anthropomorphic slime.’

‘I have a couple of his productions in my collection,’ Sam said.

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’

Sam smirked. ‘He sometimes has a budget. He’s done a few high-end vids, with a plot, and acting which is bearable.’

Fox picked up her wine. ‘Well, put one on. I can call it research.’

~~~

Slavers of Lesbon 9 was… Fox was having a little trouble coming up with appropriate terminology, and Kit had made an excuse and left, so she was not there to provide useful terms.

It was not actually that bad, but calling it good seemed a little too strong. It had a plot and the acting was not entirely wooden. The CGI seemed to have been done by a professional. The lead was Lilian LaCroix, who Fox had actually heard of and was not that bad. She was, unfortunately, playing Queen Lesbia of the Lesbons, who came from a world peopled entirely by beautiful women who wore barely any clothing and had to steal women from other worlds to keep their population up.

‘Couldn’t they just come up with some worthwhile biotech?’ Fox asked as Lesbia set about introducing a new Lesbon to the delights of girl-on-girl action. ‘I mean, they have faster-than-light spaceships…’

‘It’s impolite to point out plot holes in the barely viable plot of a porno,’ Sam replied.

Lesbia set about some enthusiastic cunnilingus on her chained, apparently virgin, captive, and Marie said, ‘At least it has a plot. A-and the sex is kind of hot.’

‘That would be the point of it being a porn vid.’

Fox listened absently as Sam and Marie discussed the merits of the sex in the, relatively few, videos Marie had watched from Sam’s collection. Her mind was more on the scene being played out. Okay, so this was lesbians and bondage, but this was the kind of thing Winsford had engaged in: chain down some girl and then have at her. Lesbia had even shared the ‘Draught of Lust’ with her victim prior to doing the chaining, and Winsford had used Cupie and Rockit. Fox could understand the psychology: it was basically rape. Rape for someone who wanted the dominance and control, and wanted the assurance that his victim was willing and enjoying the experience. With Cupie in her, any woman became a sex-starved hooker. It worked on men too, but using it could be dangerous since it reduced them to little more than animals.

The psychology behind Winsford’s other activities was a little more opaque. Why would a man who treated women the way he had have any desire to be chained up and whipped? Some sense of guilt? A desire to be punished? Naomi had said that Winsford had only been able to get off that way, but he had clearly come up with other ways to get his end away.

Fox was just coming to the conclusion that she needed to talk to Naomi again when she felt the shoulder strap of her suit being pulled down. Frowning, she looked down to see Marie working the plazkin past her elbow and Marie had her arm free before Fox could decide on a reaction. And then Marie leaned over and sucked Fox’s left nipple into her mouth.

Sam, Fox discovered when she glanced over, was aware of his girlfriend’s actions and was now watching that rather than the vid. As Marie reached down, sliding her fingers under the front of Fox’s suit, Sam lifted Marie up into a kneeling position on the sofa and spread her legs. Marie moaned, sending vibrations through Fox’s breast, as Sam’s tongue went to work on Marie, but Fox was more concerned about the fingers Marie was currently using to considerable effect on her clitoris.

Briefly, Fox considered the idea that she should say something. Say something which would stop this. But Kit had been right: Fox had been ignoring that kind of physical need for six months and there was no stopping the orgasm which was building. Frankly, she did not really want to.

12th January.

‘So, uh, that happened,’ Fox said at breakfast.

‘Sure did,’ Marie replied. Fox had put her suit back on after getting up, but Marie had elected to wear one of Sam’s shirts and had not done it up especially well.

Sam was, as was often the case, shirtless and barefoot. ‘I think we can all agree that that happened. Given that it stopped happening around three a.m., I think we can all agree that we enjoyed it.’

‘Duh,’ Fox replied. ‘You live up to expectations and you’ve taught Marie a few new tricks.’

‘Since we’re passing out the compliments, I should add that my belief that I was missing out by not taking you to bed was entirely accurate.’

‘I said we should try a threesome back when Sam and I first got together,’ Marie pointed out, smirking.

‘So this is all your fault?’ Fox asked.

Marie blinked. ‘I don’t think there’s fault… I was a little tipsy, and there was Queen Lesbis–’

‘Lesbia,’ Fox corrected.

‘Queen Lesbia getting all…’

‘Lesbian?’

‘Yeah. And there you were, wearing just about nothing. I haven’t been with a woman since you, and I thought, “Well, why the fuck not?” Sort of thing. Uh, and I figured Sam would take the hint and he did. I slept like a baby.’ Marie smiled, rather contentedly. ‘A really exhausted baby.’

Fox shook her head, a vague grin on her lips. ‘I slept just like I always do. Just a bit later than usual.’ She looked at Sam. ‘Any… regrets isn’t quite right, but anything?’

Sam took a thoughtful sip of coffee. ‘No. If I had to be analytical about it, I believe that was the right way for us to finally get together. It wasn’t us getting together, it was…’

‘A very small orgy?’

‘I think you need at least four for an orgy.’

‘Right. So, next time we don’t let Kit sneak off before it starts?’

Kit appeared beside the table, in kitsune-avatar form. ‘The next time an evening meal starts out with Fox and Marie barely dressed, I shall join you.’

‘Next time,’ Fox said. ‘Right. What about Vali, huh?’

Kit looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Well, obviously, if I can persuade him to come for a visit, he can join in too.’

~~~

‘So, um, I ended up in a threesome with Sam and Marie last night.’

Naomi paused briefly in the process of sitting, and then she smoothed her skirt under her, sat down, crossed her legs, and smiled. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

Fox rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘Sam has not been neglecting Marie’s education and he lives up to his reputation.’

‘Marie suggested you were no slouch, even prior to getting a spine you can almost fold in half. So you had some fun, but you’re worried it might change things?’

Fox lifted her coffee cup and sipped. ‘I… It was three friends having some fun, not me and Sam, or me and Marie again for that matter. I don’t think it’s a problem because it just felt friendly. Well, no, it felt fucking amazing, but–’

‘It was a friendly fucking amazing?’

‘Yeah. That.’

Naomi nodded. ‘Good. However, you wanted an opinion from an outsider, sort of outsider, regarding the chances of something going wrong?’

‘Well, actually, that’s not why I came over, but now that I’m here…’

‘I’m not entirely sure what the problem was to begin with, but I think there will be no repercussions. You held your friendship with Sam strongly enough that you gave up Marie to him. I don’t believe you’ll lose it over something as trivial as a night of rampant sex. Especially when all three of you were involved. No cheating on anyone’s side. I assume Sam and Marie were satisfied with the evening?’

‘Seemed to be. Is there training on threesome etiquette in your courses? Sam seemed to know just where to push things to keep us all equally engaged. Even when he was just watching me and Marie.’

‘There are some pointers in the basic bedroom etiquette classes and more thorough instruction in the advanced classes.’ Naomi paused, her brow furrowing a little. ‘Are you more worried that you finally chose to have sex with someone other than Jason?’

Fox’s frown was more pronounced. ‘That… might have something to do with it. But… I guess it’s a bit like Sam and Marie. He was ready for someone, and she was there when something pushed him to act. I guess I was ready, and Marie was there to push me over the edge. Girl’s got a talent for being there when she’s needed.’

‘One might suggest she has some inborn luck. Landing the M. J. role was lucky too. As I recall, she was lucky enough to land a job with Sam’s client before she ran out of money on moving to New York. What did you actually come to see me about?’

‘Oh, uh, Winsford.’ Fox flashed an apologetic smile. ‘I’m trying to understand the psychology of the man. I’m sure he was murdered, well, due to his kinks.’

‘I am going to assume that he had more than just hiring me.’

‘You said he could only get it up when he was whipped, right?’

‘His words. Actually, his words were a lot more circumspect, but that’s what he told me.’

‘Well, he had another method. He was using Rockit.’

Naomi winced. ‘You have to be a complete fool to employ that stuff. There are far safer methods of enhancing an erection. It’s one of a family of PDE-five inhibitors which goes back to sildenafil, which most people know as Viagra. There are more modern alternatives which reduce the adverse effects. Rockit was actually designed to increase the likelihood of some of those effects.’

‘Prolonged erections. Yeah. To be honest, it’s not a common street drug because there’s some truth to the rumour that it can make your dick drop off and men tend to be protective of their junk. But there are more than a few willing to risk it on an occasional basis. I think Winsford was a habitual user, but it gets worse.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear this, but go on.’

‘We found evidence that he liked chaining women to his bed and giving them Cupie. I’m assuming he was on Rockit and they were on Cupie. We found something else at his place and the lab’s still trying to work out what that is. Something new, but for all I know it was some sort of anti-aging drug. What I don’t get is the… juxtaposition of pathologies. He’s picking up women and taking them home for what amounts to a rape party, but then he chains them down. They’re on Cupie. They’re not going to resist him. Hell, they’re going to want it more than he does. And then he comes to you to be dominated and whipped into a stiffy. Winsford was pretty clearly a monster, not just an asshole, but he seems like a really confused monster.’

‘Ah…’ Naomi looked down at her empty coffee cup. Her expression was some sort of combination of angry and sad, perhaps with some resignation mixed in; Fox was not sure which was winning. ‘I said I worked with him to keep him from going elsewhere, did I not?’

‘Yeah… I’m sorry, Naomi. God was obviously up to her mean tricks again.’

‘I believe that I shall blame the Devil on this one. It’s a tried and true method, even if I think it’s balls.’ She lifted her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m trying to be useful to you here and I only seem able to focus on the women he must’ve been victimising.’

‘It’s okay. Uh, can you tell me why most people indulge in… Is it “power exchange” they call it? I’ll be honest, I know the terms, but I’m not entirely up on what the motivation is.’

Naomi’s eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve never played with a little restraint? It’s far from uncommon in women with any bisexual leanings. Many straight couples have tried it out.’

‘Well, I guess. Marie handcuffed me once. Uh, Jason would pin my hands over my head at times.’ Fox grinned. ‘I liked that he was tall enough to. Uh, actually Pieter tied my wrists to a roofbeam in this old hotel outside Amsterdam and… Anyway, yeah, I guess I have.’

Naomi smirked, even if her eyes were still holding a little of the anger from earlier. ‘I think I’d like more details of the hotel room outside Amsterdam, but that can wait. That is a simple form of power exchange. Not that I like the term. This is the dominance and submission aspect of BDSM. Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.’

‘That’s where I find a problem with Winsford, I think. I don’t believe he was ever a submissive.’

‘No, I don’t believe he was. Submission, true submission, is an active choice. The submissive, the bottom, subsumes their will to the dominant, the top. This submission is always relative since the bottom has safe words which they can use to control the play. This is why I prefer to think of it as “trust exchange.” The bottom trusts that the top will always respond to a safe word. In turn, the top trusts that the bottom will use those words only when their limits are reached. For some, safe words are a formality. The top knows their bottom so well that they can stretch the limits to breaking without crossing any bounds. Winsford would never use his safe words, but that was purely a matter of pride. He did not choose to relinquish control. Instead, he demanded that his dominatrix took control from him. He would reverse the roles if his partner could not control him. Once he had lost that particular contest, he would never admit that his top could dish out anything he could not take.’

‘So he was always trying to be in control of the situation,’ Fox mused. ‘Even if the only control he had was in not showing weakness.’

‘Precisely. As to his behaviour at home… I would suggest he had a troubled relationship with a female authority figure early in his life. His mother, a nanny, or governess. Someone who devalued him, made him feel less of a man. In return, he devalues the women he takes to bed. He reduces them to chained, rutting animals and leaves them with no memory of what has happened to them.’ Naomi paused, thinking. ‘He may have recorded those sessions.’

‘We found nothing on any of his computers. He had a safe in his office, but there were no recordings there.’

‘It’s only a possibility. He would have wanted them somewhere safe and accessible only to him.’

‘Bank box,’ Fox said. ‘Probably under a false ID. Worth checking.’

‘I’ll begin the searches,’ Kit said into her mind.

Fox gave Naomi a half-smile. ‘Talking to you has been useful. Especially if we find those records. Assuming there are any. You know, I don’t think I could… How did you describe it? Subsume my will? I’m too much of a control freak. I like to have things planned out, even when I know I’ll have to change the plan during the execution.’

‘Nonsense,’ Naomi replied, her eyes sparkling and her lips curling upward. ‘You can trust. You just need the right person to submit to. You’ve done it, to some extent, with Marie and Jason, and in the hotel room in the Netherlands. I still think you’d make an excellent dom, however.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘Oh, that’s easy to fix. I give lessons, you know?’

~~~

‘I think Naomi was propositioning you,’ Kit said as Fox rode the LI-line back toward Manhattan.

‘You think?’ Fox replied.

‘I don’t believe sarcasm was required there. I was merely wondering why you did not take her up on the offer.’

‘Well, for one thing, right now she’s a suspect in a murder inquiry, and I’m the investigating officer.’

Kit appeared in front of Fox, standing in the car but invisible to anyone else. It looked like she had done that purely so she could frown disapprovingly at her owner. ‘She is not.’

‘She is. She is a very low-probability suspect, but I’d point out that we don’t have any high-probability suspects. We’re not going to find Winsford’s killer among his friends, or his political rivals and enemies. This one was personal and I’m pretty sure it has something to do with the sex life he kept hidden away. Maybe one of his victims remembered something and decided to pay him back. If he did make recordings, we need to find them. We need the DNA evidence resolved into people. Then we might have some real suspects.’

Fox looked out at the Hudson as the train began to cross it. The hulking form of the Hudson North Barrier – now completed – rose out of the grey water like some ancient bastion. ‘Right now, all we have is a dead vote broker with a secret life. We’re going to have to dig out all his secrets to find out who killed him, and I can’t imagine that’s going to go down too well with a lot of important people.’

Part Two: Cold Vengeance

New York Metro, 13th January 2062.

Barrymore Ashburton was the kind of man who never went to bed alone. At least, that was what he told anyone who might ask, but the truth was that there were some nights when he had to. In this particular case, he had a meeting with his lawyers at nine sharp which, given his morning rituals, meant getting up at seven thirty. He had decided that his Friday night was going to involve triplets, if he could find any.

Still, he had gone to bed at eleven p.m., taking a mild tranquiliser to be sure he slept. Ashburton was not a man who worried excessively about pharmacology, no matter what he might tell the police. A good, solid eight hours, with a bit of time for waking up properly, would set him up just right for whatever boring shit he had to negotiate his way through in the morning.

So, when his alarm went off and he found himself bleary-eyed, he was a little nonplussed. It was still dark, but he had expected that: the sun would not rise until about seven twenty. With a grunt, he hit snooze and rolled over, drifting back into sleep for ten minutes before the tone in his head woke him again, and this time he took in the time. It was ten after two in the morning.

‘What the fuck?’

He killed the alarm with a thought and sat up, wondering what the Hell was up with his implant. His vision was blurred but the indicators projected by the computer in his head were rock solid, and they said he had requested an alarm for two a.m. which he was sure he had not. He rubbed at his eyes.

‘Fucking technology,’ he grumbled. Then he blinked as something began to resolve in the darkness of his room. He rubbed again and squinted. ‘Who’s there?’

There was a soft crack as two laser beams lanced through the air, ionising it. There was the pain of the burn as the beams hit Ashburton’s chest, but he had no time to cry out as the shock arced through his body and his brain began misfiring on all cylinders. Even through the stun, he felt something pressed to his neck…

~~~

Fox walked down the ramp at the back of Pythia’s vertol, which she had just landed on the lawn outside Barrymore Ashburton’s house, and took a look around before heading in. She was fairly certain that Ashburton was not going to complain from the initial reports she had got through from the first responders.

The control room had scrambled four officers in a vertol when the call had come in just before nine forty. The caller had been hysterical, but they had managed to determine that someone was dead, so there were two medics, one officer with a crime scene assistance vest, and one more for luck. The one more was standing outside the open front door and looking a little pale from what Fox could see.

‘Officer Coop,’ Fox said as the man pulled himself up straight and snapped off a salute, ‘report, please.’ He was young, ex-NAPA precinct 16, but he had only been on the job for eighteen months when he had found that he was no longer going to have a job.

‘Yes, sir. As previously reported, the medics have determined that the victim, tentatively identified as Mister Barrymore Ashburton, was deceased upon our arrival at zero nine fifty-five. Uh, Captain, it was pretty obvious. The medics weren’t really needed for him, but the witness, Miss Geri Kelly had to be mildly sedated. They want to get her back to tower three as soon as they can, sir. Uh, Jan, I mean Officer Nebbs, has begun working the scene with her vest.’

Fox suppressed the smile that wanted to come out. ‘It’s a bad one, Officer?’

‘Whoever did it, sir, they wanted the guy to suffer. I mean, I’ve not seen too many murder victims, but I figure if you want someone dead, you shoot them. This…’ Coop pulled himself up straighter. ‘I almost lost my breakfast, Captain. I’m not afraid to admit it.’

‘Okay. Stay here and if there’s any sign of anyone from the media turning up, make sure they stay away. It’s private land. If they set foot over the boundary, arrest them.’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was a fairly large lobby with a grand staircase going up to the second floor and doors leading off to various rooms. Fox had been in the morning room to the left of it when she had interviewed Ashburton and she planned to check the whole house before leaving, but for now she would have to deal with the witness who was sitting on a chair in the lobby with the two medics.

Geri Kelly was an attractive woman, which was to be expected if she was Ashburton’s secretary, with flaming-red hair down to her shoulders, emerald-green eyes, and pale skin with a few freckles over the bridge of her nose. If Fox were honest, Kelly did not look Ashburton’s type: very attractive, sure, but more in a girl-next-door way. Her eyes looked as though the colour had been brightened a little, but the rest of her appeared natural, even the quite prodigious bust trying to force its way out of her lightweight, white blouse. That seemed more Ashburton’s style.

Right now, Kelly was conscious, but barely so. Still… ‘Miss Kelly,’ Fox said and the green eyes shifted her way, still a little unfocused. ‘Miss Kelly, I’m Captain Meridian.’

‘I know you,’ Kelly replied, her voice slurred by the sedative she had been given. ‘You interviewed Barry…’ She drifted off a little and then snapped back. ‘Is Barry dead? I’m not sure. I think I saw him… Not sure.’

One of the medics grimaced a little. ‘Sorry, Captain. We had to sedate her.’

‘Yeah, I heard. Okay, get her back to tower three and get her some treatment. I want to interview her as soon as she’s competent to be interviewed. Where’s the– Where’s Ashburton?’

‘Games room. Over on the left, right at the back. Nebbs is in there. Uh, I hope you had a light breakfast, Captain, because it’s–’ His eyes widened a little as he realised who he was talking to. ‘Uh, sorry, Captain. I was forgetting you don’t, um…’

Fox flashed him a grin. ‘Actually, I like it when people forget. There is no danger of me corrupting the crime scene these days, however.’ Turning, she headed off around the staircase, past the morning room, and back toward the rear of the house.

Her enhanced olfactory sensors were picking up blood and a few other odours from body fluids before she got to the door. When she got to it, she stopped and scanned over the room for two reasons. There was the general layout of the scene, which she began to scan, full spectrum. Games room seemed about right, but the centrepiece was a pool table which Ashburton’s body was tied across. Around the room, Fox could see a card table, something which looked like a virtual golf rig, and various other random gaming implements. That included a large rack of pool cues and a croquet set. One of the mallets was on the floor at the end of the pool table, and one of the pool cues was sticking out of Ashburton’s butt.

‘Okay,’ Fox said, ‘that might’ve given me a bit of a turn if I still had organs,’ and the other reason Fox had taken her time examining the scene looked around at her.

Officer Nebbs was not a tall woman, but what there was of her was structurally sound. There was a powerful frame hidden under the standard blue-tunic-and-slacks uniform of Palladium security personnel. Right now, there was not a lot of Nebbs visible at all since she had put on the extra bits of clothing which would stop her contaminating the scene as she worked it. Disposable, knee-high overshoes handled her boots, gloves which sealed to the armoured undersuit she wore took care of her hands, and there was a hooded mask which also connected to the undersuit and was, in fact, useful during a gas attack. And Nebbs was wearing the Tasker Crime Scene Assistance vest over her uniform, which further added to her ‘disguise.’

‘Hi, Captain,’ Nebbs said.

‘Nebbs,’ Fox said, nodding. ‘I find you in such interesting places.’ The first time Fox had met the woman had been in the cold-storage room in the local Sisters of Corruption’s chapter house.

‘Huh, yeah. Well, the place isn’t so weird, but whoever did this to this guy certainly had some weird going on. Uh, I’ve captured a full lidar scan and done a preliminary analysis of the scene and body. I’ve confirmed the victim’s ID as Barrymore Ashburton, of this address. Age thirty-four according to records. The killer tied him to the pool table here by putting ropes down through the corner pockets. I believe he was drugged. I found what looks like a pressure syringe mark on his neck. Then, well, he was beaten, burned, and then sodomised with a pool cue. I believe the latter was the cause of death, Captain. There are no other wounds on the body that look lethal. Uh, I haven’t processed the front of the victim yet. I figured you’d want to see the scene as intact as possible.’

Fox gave the officer a smile. ‘Good thinking, and you seem to have done a thorough job.’

‘Thank you, sir. I figure you’ll want to run a swarm over the place and–’

‘That’s right, and since you seem to know what needs doing, and you started anyway, why don’t you interface through to Pythia and get started on that. I’ll do a walkthrough of the rest of the house.’

Nebbs’s brown eyes widened behind her mask. ‘Me, sir? I’ve never–’

‘Neither had I, the first time. Pythia will do most of the work. You just need to give her directions and keep an eye on things in case she misses something. You can contact me if you’re unsure. Give me a yell before you turn the body and I’ll come in to help. You’ve had the training, Officer Nebbs. You can do this.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Nebbs replied. ‘I’ll get right on it.’

~~~

It was a pretty big house for one man. Lounge, dining room for ten, games room, morning room, and kitchen occupied the ground floor. Upstairs there was an office with an attached smaller office for Kelly, two separate bathrooms, and six bedrooms, two of those with en-suites.

In the master bedroom, the one which appeared to have been used recently, there was evidence that Ashburton had been there when he had first been attacked. The black silk sheets – and how clichéd was that – had been dragged half off the bed. Edge detection and contrast enhancement showed signs that a body had been dragged off the bed with the sheets and showed the marks of heels in the thick carpet. The drag marks stopped after a few metres: the killer had lifted Ashburton to carry him downstairs.

Ashburton’s bedside cabinet contained an impressive array of sex toys: three different cock rings, four different sizes of vibrator, a couple of butt plugs, one of which was silver and had a gem mounted in the base, and a couple of things Fox was not entirely sure of the purpose of.

‘This one,’ Kit said, appearing and pointing at a cylindrical plastic device with something vaguely like a bottle top mounted on one end, ‘is a suction device designed for use on nipples.’

Fox looked at her. ‘You looked that up, right? This isn’t something Vali’s used on you or something?’

‘Vali does perfectly well with his lips. This is not exactly a vanilla collection, but Mister Ashburton does not seem to have the predilections of Mister Winsford.’

‘No, true, but I haven’t finished looking.’ Straightening, Fox set off to examine the rest of the room.

Ashburton had liked his comfort. The bed was big, California King, and the attached bathroom had a multi-head shower with drying system and a whirlpool bath big enough to hold a party in. Holding a party in there was, Fox suspected, the point. The fittings in the bathroom were gold, but there was a rather odd feature in there, with gold trim to draw Fox’s attention to it.

‘What sort of man puts a portrait photograph of himself, in a gold frame, on the wall of his personal bathroom?’ Fox asked.

‘A vain one?’ Kit suggested. ‘Mister Ashburton would seem to fit the bill.’

‘He would…’ Fox walked over to the picture and felt down the side of it. She smiled. ‘But in this case, he was just being kind of stupid.’ She pressed and then pulled the frame away from the wall. It hinged on the right and revealed a safe with an electronic lock. ‘Score one for the good guys, but that’s a pretty good model. Get a team on order to go through the entire house. Uh, better put through a request for a warrant for the secured electronics and this safe. I’m going to check over the office again, but I’m betting anything good is in this.’

‘Requests made. The forensics team will be here in fifteen minutes. As for the bet…’ Kit shook her head slowly. ‘No, I’m quite sure I won’t bet against you on that one.’

~~~

‘I’m going through the preliminary reports now, Helen,’ Fox said as she walked out of her virtual lounge. ‘I think she’s got a talent for it.’

‘She did do pretty well in the chapter house that time,’ Helen replied from the window Fox had pushed her portrait into. ‘I’ll take a look over the reports from today. I guess I should be checking them over anyway.’

‘Well, these murders may have politics plastered all over them, but they’re nothing to do with terrorism and politics isn’t the motive. The only reason I’m keeping at them is that I started.’

‘Uh-huh. Anyway, I’ll take a look at Nebbs’s reports and see what I think.’ Helen shrugged. ‘Mostly for form’s sake. I mean, we’re all new in these jobs, right? Have to do the dots and crosses.’

‘Sounds about right.’ Fox paused, looking up at a sign which had appeared on the door of the elevator to the murder rooms.

Beware! Icky stuff ahead! Unauthorised persons entering here may be subject to sudden vomiting.

‘You okay, Fox?’ Helen asked.

Fox shook her head and grinned. ‘Fine. My gorgeous assistant is having a little joke. You’ll see it if you come in here for the murder room.’ The door slid aside and Fox stepped into the elevator, selecting the only live room in the viron at the moment.

‘I’ll pop in and take a look when the full forensic data comes in on Ashburton’s place.’

‘Okay.’ Fox stepped out into the darkness of the room and scanned around. ‘Kit’s been busy in here. You’ll have some catching up to do. Later.’

‘Bye, Fox.’ And Helen’s image vanished, leaving Fox to take in the changes to the Winsford/Ashburton connection tree.

There were new acquaintances, many of them female, linked to Ashburton’s ID image. A few of those were not new, having crosslinks to Winsford, but the majority were. There were also three new links, all of them women, attached directly to Winsford and Fox made an educated guess.

‘We’ve got some identification from the DNA at Winsford’s place?’

‘Yes,’ Kit replied, turning from her own examination of the room’s contents. ‘Three have been identified from genetic simulation. I have already managed to eliminate all of them as potential suspects, however.’

‘Oh?’

‘If the pattern here continues, Mister Winsford was in the habit of picking up tourists for his little games. All three identified so far are from Europe. Single women, traveling alone, and all of them back in their own countries at the time of Mister Winsford’s murder.’

‘Right…’ Fox scanned over them anyway. ‘Germany, Norway, Sweden. He liked blondes. See if Baum has time to talk to them. See if they remember anything about Winsford.’ Johann Baum was the Palladium detective handling things in Europe, though Kit was in the process of getting him help out there since the number of contracts in the Nordeuropäische Union was growing.

‘How high a priority?’ Kit asked. ‘He has two murders of his own to deal with currently.’

‘Huh. When he can get to it. I don’t think any of them are going to be our killer. How’s help for Baum coming along?’

‘I have a new resource starting in Oslo at the end of the month and we are in final negotiation with a detective from Brussels, but she will not be able to start until April.’

Nodding, Fox turned back to the links. ‘Okay, who is Steven Deloit and why didn’t I notice him before?’

‘Mister Deloit is a vote broker from Detroit. Was a vote broker. He was murdered on the twenty-fourth of December last year. I have only just got the case file through from Wayden Executive Services.’

‘Huh. Are we keeping track of things like that? How long it takes for us to respond to requests. How long it takes for our requests to be processed. Seems like those could be useful statistics to keep.’

‘We have full records of every transaction. Reports can be compiled quite rapidly. Mister Deloit’s name came up in connection with Mister Winsford purely because of a few newsfeed reports I found. It seems that Mister Winsford was part of a fact-finding mission to the Fargo Agri-Zone in May last year. When I noticed that Mister Deloit was deceased, I requested the case file to see whether there was any connection. Interestingly, Mister Ashburton was also part of that mission to Fargo.’

Fox had pulled out the autopsy report from Deloit’s case file and was rapidly skimming it. ‘It’s not definitely the same killer…’

‘Mister Deloit was murdered in his apartment. Security was bypassed to gain entry, as with Mister Ashburton. The torture applied to Mister Deloit prior to his death is not identical to what was done to Mister Winsford and Mister Ashburton, but the killer appears to have improvised in all three cases. While there is no anal penetration in Mister Deloit’s case, he was beaten severely about the genitals. That seems to continue the sexual revenge motif, and the later use of a more obvious sexual element may be escalation.’

‘Uh-huh…’ Fox traced the linkages to the members of the fact-finding tour. ‘Ashburton, Winsford, and Deloit. Then we have Walker Burrage, David Neiman, Sherman Wayden…’

‘Wayden Executive Services hosted the event,’ Kit said. ‘They got the policing contract for the Fargo Agri-Zone, at least partially thanks to the last name on the list, Kent Killian.’

‘Who, I note, is dead.’

‘Yes. Murdered. I have a request outstanding for the case files.’

‘That could be interesting. And what’s an adult-film producer doing on a fact-finding mission to Fargo? See what you can dig up about that. I’ll go through everything on everything else and try to come up with a strategy.’

‘The thought has occurred that someone may be killing people associated with pushing through privatised policing,’ Kit said. ‘Mister Deloit was heavily involved and pushed for Wayden to get the Detroit contract.’

Fox frowned at the displays around her. ‘Maybe. It’s another direction to look in, I guess…’

14th January.

David Neiman looked just as much of a dilettante as he had the first time Fox had seen him, but now he was lying beside the pool, dressed in swimming briefs, with five women in various states of undress in the near neighbourhood. Only one had all of her bikini on, and there was relatively little of that. Two had dispensed with clothing altogether, though they were both swimming.

If Neiman thought the display of breasts might put her off her stride, he was disappointed. ‘I’m looking at a new angle on the deaths of Thomas Winsford and Barrymore Ashburton,’ Fox said, absently watching one of the swimmers who seemed to have very good form. Bubbles, Fox still refused to think of her as Piper, had shown Fox in; today she was topless and she settled on a lounger as soon as Fox was engaged with Neiman. ‘You went on a “fact-finding” tour of the Fargo Agri-Zone in May, Mister Neiman?’

‘Fargo?’ Neiman asked in reply.

‘You remember, Davy,’ Bubbles said. ‘That place out west. You said you had a project you wanted to research.’

‘Oh, yeah. Fargo. Right. Barry said he had this thing going on there about private policing. Sherm runs the cops out there, see? I tagged along because I had this, uh, thing I was thinking of doing. Straight vid. Thriller. Cops tracking down a serial rapist.’

‘And you wanted to research how policing worked now?’ Fox asked.

‘Yeah. Nothing much came of it… Why don’t you sit down, babe? You’re making me nervous.’

‘Four of the men on that visit to Fargo are dead, Mister Neiman. I’m linking three of them to the same killer for sure, and I suspect I’ll discover the fourth, Kent Killian, died under similar circumstances. If I were you, I might be nervous too. Did anything happen on that trip which might have been cause for someone to start murdering your friends?’

A thin bead of sweat rolled down over Neiman’s right temple. ‘We went to see a lot of boring shit. Visited a few cop houses. Talked to boring people. It was boring.’

Fox stared at the man for a second and another bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. ‘If you think of anything, any odd little occurrence that might have happened, you have my contact details. I should consider reviewing your security, if I were you.’

‘Yeah. Right. Piper, would you please show the lady out?’

Bubbles bounced to her feet. ‘Okay,’ she said, all bright and cheery. Fox followed her back through the glass house and they were almost to the door before Bubbles said, ‘It’s kinda funny that Davy thought Fargo was boring.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, he came back really jazzed. I figured there must be some really hot girls in Fargo, y’know?’

‘It’s all the fresh air and lifting bales of hay. You figure he got laid?’

‘Must’ve. Davy can’t go a whole day without it.’ The blonde giggled. ‘He doesn’t normally have trouble getting some. Girls can’t resist his charm, y’know?’ The weird thing was, Fox suspected that Bubbles really believed what she was saying.

‘He’s a real charmer,’ Fox replied as the door opened in front of her.

‘Oh yeah. Have a nice trip back. Hope to see you again.’

Fox nodded and started for the gate. ‘I have a feeling I’ll be back.’

~~~

Compared to Walker Burrage, Neiman was a real charmer. Burrage was a thickset man with a lot of, probably natural, muscle and no neck to speak of. He was not unattractive, though he had a rather flat nose and kept his dark hair buzzed close to his skull, and it was not a look Fox found attractive. He also had dark eyes, almost black, which seemed a little small for his head. Dressed in an ivory turtleneck sweater and cream slacks, he looked like a thug trying to appear casual, except that he had no real desire to talk to Fox and was not bothering to hide it.

He lived in the Martin Luther King Jr. Tower, which sat just to the north of the road which carried the same name. It was not actually inside the Manhattan Conservation District, but if you tossed a stone out the window on the south side, it was likely to hit an MCD resident. People in the MLK Tower were MCD residents too poor to live inside it, but rich enough to afford an apartment in an arcology, which sometimes made them more entitled than the true MCD population.

‘Selling guns pays well, Mister Burrage,’ Fox said as she looked out of his window. Eight hundred metres up, the view was not really that spectacular, not on a typical day in January anyway. On a clear day, you could probably see the park.

‘What did you want, Captain Meridian?’ Burrage asked, taking a seat without offering one. At least he got the title right.

‘I’m looking into the deaths of Thomas Winsford and Barrymore Ashburton.’

‘I heard about it, of course. It’s all over the news feeds.’

‘They were friends of yours.’

Burrage shrugged. ‘Business acquaintances is more accurate. I met them through the Blackburn Club. Sherman Wayden got me a membership and he hangs with them there when he’s in town. Did, I guess.’

This was not a man to sweat, Fox decided. She turned her attention back to the window and activated her olfactory and auditory analysis packages. ‘You joined them all on a trip to Fargo in May.’

‘That’s right.’

‘A salesman for a weapons company on a political tour of an agricultural zone?’

Burrage sighed. ‘I’m the principal account manager for the Rossouw Arms Works. I represent the company’s interests across North America and most of that is politics. That includes going out with the son of Wayden’s chairman to see the area he’s running. One of the areas Wayden are using our weapons. I talked to a few cops to see whether they were happy with their pistols, made nice with the local politicos, and generally smiled a lot. What’s that got to do with two dead vote brokers?’

‘Four.’

There was a very slight pause before he said, ‘What?’

‘Four of the people involved with that tour are dead. The two here, Kent Killian in Fargo, and Steven Deloit in Detroit. Among other avenues, I’m examining the possibility that someone is killing your tour group. Can you think of any reason someone would want to do that?’

‘No.’ The hesitation was gone now, but there was an edge of anger behind the single-word answer.

‘Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill Thomas Winsford and Barrymore Ashburton?’

‘I didn’t know them all that well, Captain. Aside from the club, we didn’t really move in the same circles.’

‘Right.’ Fox flashed him a thin smile. Burrage was not the kind of man to sweat, but he was sweating. ‘I’ll give the same advice to you as I gave to David Neiman. Make sure your security is tight, Mister Burrage.’

‘The security here is excellent.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

~~~

MLK Tower was not exactly well-situated for transport. Most of the people who lived there also worked there, so they tended to employ autocabs when they needed to go elsewhere. Fox decided that the day was not too bad – it was not raining and there was even a little sun on occasions – so she walked down to 123rd Street and started walking west toward the southbound BQ-line. The route would take her through Marcus Garvey Park and past Morningside Park, and then it would be a straight run down the line to home.

‘I am getting the feeling that we need to dig into that Fargo thing,’ Fox said silently. ‘Neiman was nervous as Hell and Burrage was hiding something. Have you got anywhere with Wayden?’

‘The company or the person?’ Kit asked.

‘Both.’

‘I have still not had the case files for Mister Kent. I have managed to get an appointment to see Sherman Wayden on Monday at eleven thirty.’

Fox paused at the gate to the Marcus Garvey Park, glancing at the large stone heads on either side. People came up with the strangest things to memorialise other people. She looked up at the huge uprising of rock ahead of her, wondered why that was not enough, shrugged, and moved on.

‘Now, that’s interesting,’ she said.

‘What is?’ Kit asked.

‘The guy following along behind us. He looks kind of like someone stuffed a gorilla into a suit.’

‘Aside from the aesthetic quality of that image, what about him?’

‘He was on the train on the way out to Neiman’s place.’

‘Oh.’

‘Doesn’t look like a spook, but it could be NIX keeping tabs on me.’

There was a slight pause and then Kit said, ‘Do you wish me to run him? I’ve extracted quite a good image from your memory.’

‘Hold off on that for now. If it is NIX, I don’t want to tip them that I’ve spotted them. Plus, there’s not that much point in getting rid of a NIX tail when I’m not doing anything I don’t want them noticing.’

‘I’ll save the image then. It’s odd to have only one person on a tail, isn’t it?’

‘Uh-huh. He’ll have a partner. If they’re professionals, it’ll be a team, but somehow I don’t think they’re that professional. I’ll keep an eye out. Oh, and pass that image to Belle. She can keep a check out for him near the house.’

~~~

Despite the events of the previous Saturday, Sheela Na Gig was buzzing and so were Marie and Helen, for different reasons. For Helen, it was a subdued buzz because she was just looking forward to Terri’s return, which was due on Tuesday evening. For Marie, it was all about M.J. and the start of a multi-episode arc which had a special guest star.

‘Did you see the reviews? They absolutely loved you. I mean, I’m glad it’s not your day job because I’d be out of work!’ The redhead was almost bouncing on her seat, and she was not wearing a dress to bounce in.

Naomi smiled an amused, slightly indulgent smile. ‘I saw the reviews. I admit to enjoying them more than I should.’

‘More than you should? They were worth enjoying.’

‘A Sister shows humility in all things,’ Naomi said, ‘except in her costume, obviously.’

Fox, sitting beside the Sister Superior in their booth, did a quick scan, more for form’s sake than need. ‘You’re dressed in belts, Naomi. That skirt you’re… I think “wearing” is an inappropriate word.’

Naomi smirked. She was not working, so she had dressed for the club rather than clients. That, apparently, meant a leather harness featuring a breast band with a peephole in the middle and straps which joined beneath a skirt that was more of a belt to conserve some modesty. There were also hold-up stockings with a pair of black, thigh-high boots over them. Her long legs were, in fact, far more thoroughly clad than the rest of her. ‘You’re one to talk,’ Naomi said. ‘Your skirt’s not much longer than mine and that teddy is translucent enough that it’s not hiding anything.’

‘She has a point, Fox,’ Helen said. ‘I don’t think I could wear that outfit. In public. Could I borrow the designs for Tuesday night?’

‘Yes, but you’ll need to sort out your own boots.’ Fox turned her attention back to Naomi. ‘You did kind of steal the show a little. I mean, Marie held her own. M. J. still managed to stand out, but you have a lot of on-screen presence.’

‘You hit all your lines perfectly,’ Marie said. ‘I don’t think we did a single retake with you.’

‘It’s not the first time I’ve been in front of a camera,’ Naomi said. ‘The last time was not exactly a speaking role. There were noises, but no actual words. However, I am used to public speaking and a lot of my work involves acting. I was a little surprised they didn’t get me out of my clothes more often. What was it? Two topless scenes?’

‘Only one made the cut,’ Marie replied. ‘Um, Adrian and Nathan are scared of you.’ Naomi lifted an eyebrow. ‘Well, maybe not scared. Kind of reverent.’

‘Ha! That does it then. They asked if I’d be willing to do more for next season and I suggested they wait for the reception on these episodes. I’ll tell them I’ll do it, if I get a sex scene with M. J.’

Marie’s jaw dropped open.

After a second, Fox said, ‘You know, if you’ve broken her, Sam’s going to make you buy him a new one.’

~~~

Fox looked up as two more women arrived at the table. ‘You made it. I was beginning to think you’d chickened out.’

‘We took a while finding suitable attire for Eve,’ Kit replied. Her gynoid was wearing one of her ‘suitable for Sheela Na Gig’ outfits: white thigh-high boots and a white vinyl dress with powder-blue trim. The dress had a deep vent at the front, going down below Kit’s navel, held together with straps, but even held together, the dress showed off a lot of breast. Together with blue nails and blue eye shadow, Kit’s lips were painted an icy blue. She looked quite the ice queen.

‘You know,’ Helen said, ‘I remember when Kit was sort of sweet and innocent. And now she’s dressed as the porn version of the Snow Queen.’

Kit gave a shrug. ‘I like white. Anyway, I think we found something suitable for Eve, don’t you think?’

Eve was blushing a little as everyone turned to look. The bioroid was dressed in a vinyl camisole top, purple to go with her hair and eyes, with fishnet strips which did a good job of showing off her breasts. Her skirt was short and also purple, with wide cut-outs up the sides of her thighs. She was in purple platform pumps to give her a little extra height and with make-up she rarely wore on, it was relatively unlikely that anyone would recognise her. ‘I was a little worried I would be underdressed,’ Eve said, ‘but I seem to fit in quite well.’

‘You look beautiful,’ Naomi said. ‘I’m so glad you could join us.’

‘I said I’d get her out here at some point,’ Fox said, ‘and tonight seemed like a suitable occasion.’

‘And here I am,’ Eve said. ‘This is…’ She looked around, taking in the half-dressed humans and the general ambience. ‘This is going to be a new experience. Sam could not make it?’

Marie shook her head. ‘He’s working until late. Maybe until morning.’

‘Sit down,’ Kit suggested. ‘I’ll get drinks.’

‘No problems getting here?’ Fox asked as Eve took a seat beside Marie.

‘None,’ Eve replied. ‘I think that the public have largely forgotten about the artificial woman living among them. If I walk in the mall in the tower, no one really takes any notice of me. Besides, with Marie and Naomi here, I do not think anyone will be looking twice at me.’ She turned and smiled at Marie. ‘I have been watching your show. I saw you both on it last night. Miko, my neighbour, thinks it quite amazing that I know you both. She has taken to coming to my apartment on Friday nights to watch with me.’

‘Well, I hope you’re enjoying it,’ Marie said. ‘I mean, I assume you are because you’d stop watching it if you weren’t.’

‘Yes. I realise that it is meant as entertainment, and it is entertaining. And a little risqué.’ There were some giggles around the table at that. ‘But I learn a little something with every episode. I see parts of the metro I have not been to. I learn about the Church of Saint Nicholas and its members. I believe Miko’s view of your profession, Naomi, has changed from watching it.’

‘That is why we continue to support the production,’ Naomi replied. ‘It costs us very little to assist IB-nineteen. We even get a little money in when one of us appears on the show. The effect on the reputation of the Church and sex workers in general has been very positive. It would cost us a fortune to mount a memetic campaign giving similar results.’

‘Cost-effective and entertaining,’ Helen said. ‘Makes you wonder what else we could do with that kind of programming. Maybe we should get Kit her own series.’

Fox shook her head as Kit returned with the drinks and narrowed her eyes at Helen. ‘No,’ Fox said, ‘we get Kit and Eve a series. The adventures of two artificial life forms sharing an apartment.’ Eve made a vaguely strangled noise and took a drink of wine.

Kit took a seat beside Fox. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, ‘but I think it would work much better with an AI, a bioroid, and a digitised human. It should probably be a sitcom.’

‘I bet I could get IB-nineteen in on that one,’ Marie said, smirking.

‘I should probably just learn to keep my mouth shut,’ Fox said.

‘That is never going to happen,’ Helen said, grinning.

15th January.

‘We should probably review Eve’s security status,’ Fox said. It was after midnight and they were finishing their drinks before leaving. Kit and Helen were going to escort Eve back to tower three and Kit planned to stay the night there. ‘You’ve enjoyed being out, right?’

Eve nodded. ‘I don’t believe it’s something I’ll do a lot, but I have enjoyed being out of the tower in a social setting.’

‘Right. Kit, maybe you could get something pushed through for that? Assess whether we can relax things for her a bit.’

Kit nodded. ‘I’ll raise it at the next Palladium board meeting. I suspect BioTek will want to be consulted, but it is primarily a security issue.’

‘I’d suggest going with someone for a while. Maybe Miko could take you out, or Kit. If you fancy some exercise, I could take you running in Central Park.’

‘We haven’t done that in a while,’ Marie slurred. She was half-cut. Naomi had agreed to help get the actress home.

‘I generally only run when I want to think. Exercise doesn’t do much for me.’

‘That’sh a valid point.’

Eve giggled. ‘Marie is a cute drunk. Thank you, Fox. I would enjoy the opportunity to see more of the metro. And to have a… Well, a more normal life.’

Fox laughed. ‘I can’t promise you that. Helen’s the only one around here with a normal life, and I think that’s marginal. We can maybe get you out in the world more, and at least you’ll be weird in good company.’

‘That’s probably the best I can ask for.’ Eve raised her glass. ‘Here’s to being a little weird.’

~~~

‘Thanks for helping me with her,’ Fox said. She stood beside Naomi, both of them looking down at the already-sleeping form of Marie, tucked up in bed. ‘I can manage her on my own, but it’s easier with two.’

Naomi chuckled softly. ‘Undressing Marie is hardly a chore.’

‘Even when she’s suggesting we all go to bed together?’

‘Especially when she’s suggesting that. Not that she would’ve stayed awake long enough to enjoy it.’

‘True.’ Fox turned and headed for the door. ‘Do you want a drink? Coffee, or a glass of wine? You don’t seem particularly impaired.’

‘No, I’m just nicely buzzed. Wine would be nice. If you’ll join me.’

Out in the hallway, Fox turned toward the back stairs. ‘Okay. Belle, would you organise a couple of glasses of wine? Bring them to my lounge.’

Belle’s blue-suited avatar appeared beside the door to the stairs. ‘Of course, Fox. Sam has sent through a message indicating that he will not return until morning.’

‘Right. Can you put a bottle of water and some Painaway on the nightstand beside Marie, please?’

‘Certainly.’ Belle vanished again, just as she had appeared.

Fox opened the door and started up the stairs. ‘Of course, the wine won’t do anything to me. I don’t even get the buzz.’

‘That has to be the biggest disadvantage to your, um, condition that I’ve heard,’ Naomi said.

‘Well, I can get drunk on virtual wine. Terri coded up some virtual coffee that sort of feels like it’s giving me a kick in the morning. I guess if enough people go through the Akh process, someone will invent virtual drugs.’

‘I should imagine so. We already have virtual brothels.’

Fox giggled. ‘Yeah. Virtual sex is so much better when you’re an infomorph.’ She started down the corridor to her lounge, still grinning. ‘You don’t get that weird disparity between what your mind has been up to and what your body did.’

‘Hmm, do you think of… Well, do you think of this frame as your body? Has your body image changed?’

Entering the lounge, Fox dropped onto a sofa, settling back with a sigh, and waited for Naomi to sit beside her. Naomi crossed her long legs in their boots, and Fox’s eyes dipped to watch them, before flicking back up to Naomi’s face. ‘I think… I think whatever image I have of my body, it’s changing. I mean, I have this frame and a combat model in New York. We put one like this in Tokyo to cut down travel times to there and Australia. There are combat models on the Moon and Mars. The Moon should already have one of these Mielikki models, and Mars and Venus will get them in February and March. And then there’s whatever avatar I use in any viron I visit. I still think of me as me, but what’s me tends to change according to what I’m wearing.’

One of the house’s arachnoform frames scuttled into the lounge with a pair of glasses balanced on its back. Naomi lifted one of the glasses and sipped. Her tongue flicked over her lips and she smiled. ‘Nice. So… What if you were occupying a frame that didn’t look like your old body? What if you were in one of these?’ She indicated the arachnoform, which was handing Fox her glass.

‘Ha! I couldn’t execute on the processor in there. It’s rated for teleoperation only. But, uh, I don’t know. I’ve never… Um, when I got my first frame, right after I was initialised the first time, I told them to let me try it out before they’d put the skin on it. That sort of looked like me, but it felt… not like me. But it felt like my body because of the way the software drives the hardware.’ Fox nodded to the spider-frame. ‘Thanks, Belle.’

‘Always my pleasure, Fox,’ Belle’s voice said from the robot’s speakers. Then the machine turned on its eight metal limbs and scurried off into the hallways.

‘I find it fascinating,’ Naomi said. She sipped her wine and then reached out to stroke her fingers over Fox’s exposed thigh. ‘The skin seems so real. You feel my touch like you would normally?’

‘Uh, that depends on what you mean by normally. The, um, mechanical process is different. Human skin…’ Fox paused as Naomi’s fingers slid inward, over the synthetic skin of her inner thigh. ‘Jackson went on about it once. Human skin has a lot of different receptors to detect… detect different things.’ Fox’s throat felt dry, even though that was not really happening, and she took a large sip of wine to wet it. ‘Pressure, heat, cold, pain. All done by different cells. Some of th-them aren’t entirely understood. I’ve got one kind of sensor a-and the drivers interpret the s-signals so they feel the same to me.’

‘Fascinating,’ Naomi said. She sipped her wine, and her fingers slid up Fox’s thigh, circling gently.

‘Uh, with this m-model, they p-put in a far higher density of mechanoreceptors in the h-hands. I c-can do things by t-touch you’d need vision f-for normally.’

Naomi drained her glass and leaned forward to put it on the floor, and her hand slipped away from Fox’s leg. Fox let out a shuddering breath, aware that her need to breathe was entirely psychological now, but her arousal was something else. Her nipples were tight against the plazkin suit, and the skin on her thigh seemed cold now, bereft of Naomi’s touch.

Then Naomi turned, slipping a hand beneath Fox’s skirt and cupping her mound, pressing gently. Fox gasped. ‘Are your palms the only sensitive areas?’ Naomi asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.

‘No…’

‘Good.’ Naomi pulled her hand away and swung around, straddling Fox’s thighs. Reaching up, she slipped the straps of Fox’s suit off her shoulders, pulling the garment down sharply to expose Fox’s breasts, but keeping her arms trapped. Bending forward, Naomi slid her tongue slowly over an engorged nipple and Fox moaned.

Lifting her head, Naomi looked into Fox’s eyes. ‘If you tell me to stop, I will.’

There was a part of Fox’s mind telling her that she should stop it. Somewhere inside her, some thought was trying to put forward an argument. ‘I… I’m not sure what I want,’ Fox said, ‘but I don’t want you to stop.’

Leaning forward again, Naomi claimed Fox’s mouth with her own.

~~~

Fox lay in the near-silent aftermath of another orgasm, listening to the sound of her breathing. And Naomi’s. They seemed to be breathing in sync as though one or the other had made some conscious decision to breathe in time with the other, or it had simply happened… It could have just happened.

Fox had lost count of the number of times Naomi had driven her over the edge. The Sister Superior had taken charge like the dominatrix she was and Fox had gone where Naomi ordered. Up and up, higher and higher, only to fall into white heat. Naomi had demanded that Fox climax again and again, and Fox had come. Naomi had demanded pleasure from Fox, and Fox had given it.

Now it was three in the morning, and it seemed that Naomi was slowing down. She lay against Fox, their legs entwined, and nothing was said for several minutes.

‘You really are quite sensitive down there,’ Naomi said, her voice soft.

‘It’s configuration,’ Fox replied. ‘There’s some file somewhere with a lot of amplification values for different regions of the body. Or so I was told. Like, your palms are more sensitive than your forearms. The ones for my erogenous zones are tweaked a little too high, but not too high, and I kind of like it how they are.’

‘So do I.’

Fox gasped as Naomi reached out and began to slide a finger over her navel stud. It was a weird sensation, like an erotic version of butterflies in the stomach. Then Naomi’s lips were adding butterfly kisses along Fox’s neck. ‘You know… we have t-to sleep sometime,’ Fox said.

‘You’re going to come once more for me.’ There was amusement in Naomi’s voice, but also a firmness: she would not be argued with.

‘I’m going to come one more time,’ Fox said. ‘For you.’

Naomi’s fingers slid down over the firm cybernetic muscles of Fox’s stomach and more butterflies took wing, doing a rapid circle and then flocking down. Fox let out a whimper and Naomi was inside her, three fingers pushed in and up.

‘There’s s-something…’ Fox said. ‘When… When I sleep.’

‘Yes?’ Naomi’s fingers pressed and circled, their pace increasing. She knew by now exactly which spot would give the greatest effect and she was merciless. ‘Keep going.’

‘I… I won’t be… be in… Oh God… in my body. If… If you wake… wake up, don’t be… alarmed. PleasecanIcome?’

‘Wait…’

‘Please… please… please…’

‘Now, come now.’

The driving fingers drover harder, faster, and Fox’s eyes rolled back. Her back arched off the bed in a motion that would likely have snapped a natural spine. There was light so bright it seemed like darkness, and then Fox was collapsing back onto the sheets… and Naomi’s fingers were still inside her, still moving, driving her up again.

‘You said–’

‘I lied. Again. Now. Again, pet. Now!’

Fox let out a cry that was somewhere between anguish and ecstasy, and her mind flared into another cosmic explosion of white-hot pleasure…

Naomi had pulled her into her arms and was spooned against her back when Fox came down again. It felt… good. ‘Now we can sleep,’ Naomi said, but Fox lay there until she heard Naomi’s breathing even out before initiating her upload to the server.

~~~

Sunday morning and the news channels were off to a slow start. They had picked up on the death of Barry Ashburton, and some were linking it to Winsford’s murder through the vote-broker angle, but none had suggested it was the same killer. Yet. It would come. Mostly, the ‘news’ consisted of political and social opinion pieces, and a healthy dose of gossip.

‘Huh,’ Fox said, ‘according to IB-two-sixty-nine, Nishi and Charlie are breaking up.’ The music star and the acerbic chat-show host had got married in September. Fox and Kit had been at the wedding, along with Helen, and Yuriko Fukui had flown in from Japan for it. Despite the media circus around the event, it had been a fairly quiet affair. Everyone had avoided mentioning Jason or any other recent events anywhere near Fox.

‘Which just goes to show that you shouldn’t trust anything they say,’ Kit replied. ‘Last time I visited Misaki, we were giggling over their renewed love life. Or sex life. They’ve been together for some time now and the… urgency was less than during their early affair. Marriage seems to have given them permission to go wild again. Which I think is rather sweet.’

‘They’re a cute couple. And that’s not something I ever expected to say about a couple with Charlie Iberson in it. Anyway, I don’t believe anything IB-two-sixty-nine says, even when I don’t have a fact checker.’

‘That’s a good–’

Belle appeared in the viron, cutting off further discussion. ‘Fox, I have Representative Toliver J. Whitton requesting to see you.’

‘To see me? He’s outside?’

‘Yes, with two bodyguards. And the request was phrased more in the form of a demand.’

‘It’s eight thirty-five on Sunday morning and he– Never mind. Let him in. Tell him he can have one bodyguard. I’ll meet him downstairs as soon as I’m ready.’

‘Of course, Fox.’

‘Keep an eye on this, Kit,’ Fox added before initiating the download to her cyberframe.

~~~

Kit was already displaying the data Palladium had collected on Whitton as Fox walked down the stairs into the hall. Ex-Army, doing two years of active service as a second lieutenant before switching to reserve status. He had never been in an active conflict zone, but that was not entirely uncommon. He was fifty-six and had been the representative for New York Metro for the past six years having worked his way up through the ranks of the national administration. He had been strongly in favour of private policing, and had endorsed the Wayden bid for his metro region. A note added by Dia Barrera, MarTech’s chief political analyst, indicated that Whitton was a career politician without the charisma for politics and actively hostile to Palladium.

Fox could believe it. Whitton was a physically big man. Not tall, but large, bulky. He was, Fox guessed, a good twenty pounds over his recommended weight and that was focused around his middle, but there were still signs of the muscle enhancements the Army had put in, mostly in the tightness of his jacket sleeves over his biceps. He managed to look as though his face was too small for his head, though he tried to hide that with a less-than-conservative, costly haircut with a low fringe and sideburns. His nose was thin and a little on the long side, his grey eyes and his mouth were smaller than you might expect, and he barely had a chin. And he had both his bodyguards with him; two ex-military bruisers in suits which did not hide their muscles or their pistols.

‘Representative Whitton,’ Fox said from halfway down the staircase, ‘what can I do for you?’ The position put her well above him, forcing him to look up. Annoyed at him turning up at all, never mind at such a ridiculous time, she had selected a slightly more opaque bodysuit, black jeans, and the running shoes she had decided she liked for work. No jacket.

‘Miss Meridian,’ Whitton said. ‘I am here to put my concerns regarding the Winsford and Ashburton murders to you.’

‘Really.’ Fox continued down the stairs, waving casually for him to follow her into the lounge. ‘At eight thirty on a Sunday morning with two armed bodyguards.’

‘It’s–’

‘When I specifically requested that you bring only one into the house.’ Fox crossed to the fireplace and turned, looking back at the representative with a blank expression. On the other hand, she knew that the two gorillas had seen the pistol attached to the back of her belt…

Whitton apparently decided that ignoring the comment about the guards was the correct way to proceed. He sat down on one of the sofas without being invited. ‘It’s about–’

‘And it’s Captain Meridian, if we’re on business.’

He was going to ignore that too, but he was getting annoyed at the interruptions. ‘I’m here to ask what you’ve done about these murders and the assassination of the reputation of a revered politician.’

‘Okay… And what makes you think you can do that, Representative? There’s an established line of communication from your office to Palladium. It’s laid down in the legislation. You communicate with the NAPA judiciary, expressing any concerns you may have or requesting information. The oversight group within NAPA will then go through the standard liaison to express those concerns or gather that information. You know this and you know the reasons for the existence of the protocol.’

‘I always had a good relationship with Don Hovering. I went to him when there were concerns, so–’

‘Donald Hovering was, and is, the director of NAPA. If you’d like to talk to him about this, be my guest. But that was one branch of government talking to another. This is a government official talking directly to a contract holder concerning individual cases and it’s not allowed under the new regulations.’

Whitton got to his feet, because he was at more of a disadvantage sitting down, or he thought so. ‘I have legitimate concerns regarding your handling of these clear cases of terrorism. You’re sleeping with the prime suspect, woman!’

Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘First of all, there is no indication of terrorism here.’

‘Of course there is! NIX will–’

‘NIX agrees with me. Despite a slightly shaky start, we are following protocol. Both Winsford and Ashburton were killed for personal reasons. I wonder what makes you think that’s not the case? However, second point, which “prime suspect” am I sleeping with?’

‘You deny it? The whore you’ve–’

‘Okay, in the spirit of cooperation, I’m telling you now that the house AI is under orders to record all meetings I have in this house, and I’ll be packaging this whole thing up and sending it to NAPA Judicial for assessment regarding a possible obstruction of justice charge. Just to be clear, Representative, Naomi Lind is not a suspect, she has a solid alibi for the Ashburton murder and has been forensically cleared of Winsford’s, and her approval rating with the citizens of this metro is thirty-two points higher than yours. While she would probably be perfectly happy with being described as a whore, I think you’ll find that insulting her on record will probably see you out of office in short order.’

‘I’d like to see you try,’ Whitton said, his own eyes narrowing.

‘Since you asked nicely… Now, I suggest you leave and put your concerns through via the correct channels, and we’ll see what happens then, shall we? I’m guessing that you’ll get a rebuke from the judiciary for attempting to bypass them, but you never know.’

Whitton, it seemed, was not going to give up so easily. ‘Barry Winsford was a personal friend and I won’t see his name dragged through the mud like this.’

‘I know he was a friend of yours, Representative. My PA is very thorough when it comes to compiling lists of known associates. None of the leaks of information have come from Palladium.’ Whitton opened his mouth, but Fox held up a hand to stop him. ‘If they had, his name would be being dragged through a lot worse than mud. You didn’t know him. I hope you didn’t. I won’t give details, but he was doing a lot worse than hiring a licensed prostitute once in a while. If we’d found out about his habits before he died, he’d be in Rikers by now. Go home, file your complaint, and tell whoever put you up to this to back off.’

‘No one “put me–”’

‘God! Give it up. Don’t you think you’ve insulted me enough today already? Get the fuck out of my house!’

~~~

‘Send that data to Dia,’ Fox said as she stepped through onto the hallway on her floor. ‘I think we’ll have to send a complaint through the judiciary to cover ourselves, but let’s see what the political viewpoint is first.’

‘Compressed, encrypted, and dispatched,’ Kit replied.

‘Great. And very efficient.’

‘Of course. Naomi is still asleep. Should I arrange some breakfast?’

Fox stopped at the bedroom door. ‘Let’s see what she wants. She may need to get back to the chapter house.’

‘As you wish,’ Kit said. Fox was sure there was a smirk in her voice.

Opening the bedroom door, Fox slipped in. It was dark: the room had no windows because Fox liked it dark when she slept, or had done when that mattered. Naomi was, however, quite visible as a heat source, partially muffled by the sheets. Fox took a step toward the bed and the heat source shifted.

‘Why’d you have to get up?’ The question was mumbled, dripping with drowsiness.

‘I got a visit from Toliver Whitton,’ Fox replied and raised the lights to ten percent, letting her see Naomi properly. It was worth doing: the sheets were now pushed down to Naomi’s waist and she looked like a blonde goddess waking from sleep driven by sexual exhaustion. She writhed against the bed, stretching languorously before turning to reveal magnificent breasts with thick, aroused nipples topping them.

‘You’re dressed,’ Naomi said. An accusation.

‘Well, yes. I had a visit from Toliver Whitton.’

‘Horrible man. Personally and because he made you dress.’

‘Someone pushed him into it. Someone who knew we’d spent the night together.’

Naomi rubbed sleepy eyes and frowned. ‘I haven’t caused you problems, have I?’

‘No. Actually, that ties a few things together I wasn’t sure about. Do you want some breakfast? I wasn’t sure when you needed to be back…’

The frown became a half-smile. ‘Want rid of me?’

‘No. There’s not much I can do on the case until Monday, but isn’t Sunday supposed to be important when you’re a nun?’

‘The Sisters of Corruption are hardly traditional nuns, Fox. We make allowances for our work and… other situations. Besides, I heard you beseeching God and Jesus Christ enough for both of us last night.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? Blasphemy jokes? On a Sunday, too. I wouldn’t want to be you at your next confession.’

‘We don’t do the confessional. We’re not affiliated with New Rome. Anyway, yes, I’d like some breakfast. Something light if that could be arranged. And I’m going to take advantage of your shower.’ Naomi slipped from under the sheets and started for the bathroom door. ‘You will join me.’ There was that little edge of command in her voice again. Fox could hear it and knew her own voice had the same quality when she needed it.

And Fox knew she was not going to disobey. ‘I’ll be right there,’ she said and sat down to take off her shoes.

~~~

Sam’s reaction to Naomi coming down for lunch was fairly subtle. He waited for Fox’s back to be turned, pointed at Naomi, pointed at Fox, and raised an eyebrow. Naomi gave him a smile and a nod, and a few seconds later, Fox asked what he was grinning at.

Marie was less subtle, but she waited until the food was on the table, though Fox was not eating, and everyone had a glass of wine. ‘So, you two were at it like a barn door in a hurricane last night?’ Sam almost choked on a slice of ham.

‘Oh yes,’ Kit said. Her gynoid frame was back from tower three, and also not eating. ‘Those were some interesting memories to sync, I can tell you.’

‘Naomi always was a very skilled lover,’ Sam commented after a drink of wine. ‘Exceptionally flexible.’

‘Fox has me beaten on that front,’ Naomi said. ‘With some training, she could be better than me, I think.’

‘It’s always good to know you’ve a profession to fall back on,’ Marie said.

‘Thanks,’ Fox said, ‘but I think I’ll stick with finding murderers.’ She narrowed her eyes at Marie. ‘You are so trying to work out how you can get a foursome going.’

‘I am not!’ Flushed cheeks. Widened eyes. Short pause. ‘I didn’t want to leave Kit out this time.’

Sam had to take another drink from his wine glass. ‘Me and the four of you? Are you trying to kill me, my love?’

‘No. Of course not. But speaking of inheriting the house when you die of exhaustion, I think we should do the thing with me moving in here and Kit taking the basement. Uh, with the “if Sam’s working, I can use the bed” clause. It makes sense. If Fox’s love life is picking up again, Kit should have somewhere of her own. And all my decoration is v-tagged so Belle can store my configuration and Kit can have her own, and we can swap if I’m down there and can’t stand Kit’s taste. In fact, Kit doesn’t sleep and she’s got Vali, so she doesn’t even really need the bedroom, so it works really well now I think about it.’

‘Breathe, love,’ Sam said.

Marie giggled. ‘You know I can’t when you call me that.’

Kit pursed her lips thoughtfully for a second. ‘You’re quite sure, Marie?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And you are sure, Sam?’

Sam nodded. ‘I don’t think she’s slept in her own bed more than twice in the last three or four months. We would just be formalising the reality of our relationship.’

‘Then it’s a deal. Belle and I will organise moving your things upstairs this week.’

~~~

Fox paused with her finger over the button which would take them to the Winsford/Ashburton murder room. ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think there’s anything in there which could disturb me, Fox,’ Naomi replied, ‘and I’d be interested to see how you work.’

‘Okay, but just remember this information is confidential.’

Naomi’s smile had an evil edge. ‘We’re sleeping together. All our exchanges are confidential.’

Fox pressed the button. ‘Doesn’t that only apply to clients?’

‘If it makes you feel better, you can pay me a dollar.’ The elevator doors opened and Naomi’s eyes widened. ‘Oh!’

There was nothing on display which was especially shocking, so the exclamation was not that. Fox walked out and scanned the huge connection tree which Kit had created. It was very impressive and probably looked amazing, but it was now so large as to be almost useless. Unless you knew where to look. Fox moved through the array of images, between the streams of light which formed the connections, to the ‘trunk’ of the tree where Winsford and Ashburton held pride of place along with Burrage, Neiman, and Sherman Wayden, and Deloit and Killian sat off to one side yet clearly part of the group.

Following, Naomi paused and reached out to touch one of the images. ‘You have a lot of information about me here.’

‘I like to do thorough work,’ Kit said, stepping out of the elevator. She flashed Naomi a grin. ‘Besides, you’re sleeping with my owner. I have to do a thorough background check.’

‘Of course.’

‘Anything new in, Kit?’ Fox asked.

‘We have the full forensic report on Mister Ashburton’s home.’

‘Uh-huh. Did he have a secret stash of bondage gear and drugs?’

‘Does a pair of handcuffs covered in pink fur count?’

‘No,’ Naomi said, ‘they don’t.’

‘In that case, no bondage equipment, but some drugs. He had a three-month stock of No Mistakes, which is not illegal of course, but they found a small supply of Party Juice and Aphrodite’s Kiss, and another bottle of the mysterious chemical found in Mister Winsford’s safe.’

‘Contraceptives and some… more consensual sex drugs,’ Fox said. ‘The labs haven’t identified that mystery one yet?’

‘There’s a note in the report indicating that they have passed the items on to BioTek for analysis.’

‘BioTek?’

‘Yes. The only thing they have managed to determine so far is that the bottles contain a nanodrug. BioTek are attempting to extract the coding and determine what it does.’

‘You found this in both men’s homes?’ Naomi asked.

‘Uh-huh,’ Fox replied. ‘A bottle like you’d use in a pressure syringe or something. No label and, so far, no idea what it does, but I don’t like the fact that it’s a nanodrug. You can do some very nasty things with nanodrugs.’

‘Like the Ghost Dolls?’

‘Probably not quite that drastic. You need a suspension tank and some medical supervision for that kind of gross body modification. What bothers me is that there aren’t that many places you can get nanodrugs from, so who’s supplying this one and what were these guys doing with it?’

‘I suspect we may know much more when BioTek figure out what it is,’ Kit replied. ‘All of the bottles we’ve found so far have been more or less full. The drug cannot have been used on many people.’

‘Let’s hope you’re right. Or this could be a lot worse than a couple of murders.’

~~~

‘All of the major channels are reporting it,’ Belle said as IB-62 played beside her. ‘It appears that the story originated on IB-two-six-nine late this afternoon and spread rapidly.’

‘Zak Zaff again?’ Fox asked.

‘Sleazeball,’ Marie commented.

‘Mister Zaff was the reporter,’ Belle said, ‘but I thought the preferred term was “maggot.”’

‘He’s a sleazeball maggot,’ Marie replied.

‘But he seems to be getting his hands on information he shouldn’t be getting,’ Sam said. It was evening, and there was often a viewing of the evening news, with commentary, then. Naomi had returned to the chapter house, or she would likely have been commenting too.

‘All he’s done is connect the murders,’ Fox replied. ‘I don’t know why the other channels didn’t do that already.’ She frowned. ‘Still, he’s doing a better job than usual in an area that’s not really his forte. Kit, put Zaff in a side-branch of the murder room and run a profile on him. Let’s see who he’s connected to.’

‘Oh… Sorry, Kit,’ Marie said, ‘that’s gonna suck.’

‘Thank you for your consideration, Marie,’ Kit replied. ‘But don’t worry, it’s Fox who’ll have to put up with my complaints afterward.’

Detroit–Chicago Metro, 16th January.

Detroit had done well out of the immediate aftermath of climate shift, earthquake, and eruption which had marked the 2030s and 40s. It had a lot of disused buildings which could be renovated to house the displaced populations from the south and west. There was a resurgence of industry in the Motor City, even if cars were becoming relatively obsolete in much of the country. And then the industry had switched to fully automated factories and the boom became bust in a matter of a few years.

Suddenly, all those new people had no jobs. Rapidly built, cheap buildings put up to house the influx fell into disrepair. It either became sprawl or it was torn down and replaced by arcologies for the wealthy. There was, if you took all the districts together, more sprawl in New York than in Detroit, but it was not by a big margin and the Detroit Sprawl was one, big, lawless area.

You went past about twenty-five kilometres of the southern border of the Detroit Sprawl on the train heading in from the airport toward the centre of the metro. If anything, the place looked worse than the sprawl areas of New York. There seemed to be relatively few buildings still standing. Even from the train, Fox could see armed cyberframes, vertols in the air, and wheeled minitanks on the ground, patrolling the ruins. Of course, Palladium was running patrol frames over the sprawl areas too, but they were not routinely armed.

Fox looked away and turned her attention inward. ‘What do we have on Sherman Wayden?’

Kit popped up an image of a fairly young man, handsome and blonde with an arrogant look about him. He looked like what Fox expected from a member of the Blackburn Club. ‘Sherman Grant Wayden,’ Kit began.

‘Ouch. That’s not asking him to live up to much.’

‘Age twenty-seven. Home educated, but with no recognised higher qualifications. Unlike his father, Sherman has no military experience. His father does not talk about him much to the media, but it’s generally believed that he is being groomed to take over Wayden Executive Services. Aside from general management, Sherman’s current assignment is leading the policing effort in the Fargo Agri-Zone. Apparently, he is doing an adequate job, at the very least, since the zone was audited in December and passed after five days.’

‘Huh. Remind me to call Topeka tonight.’

‘Of course. Sherman Wayden has had no steady relationships I could find. He has had a number of girlfriends, but none lasted more than a couple of weeks. Most of the names he’s been linked with have been for one or two days.’

‘Something of a pattern with these guys. Do you have anything on Burrage’s love life?’

‘No regular partner. Mister Burrage does not have the public profile the others have. His LifeWeb activity is scarce, but I did manage to find a couple of links to him from the accounts of other users. From a very small sample, he likes blondes. Mister Deloit was a heavy user of LifeMeet. He would frequently undertake one-night hook-ups five or six times a week, though that was not a constant rate. Mister Killian was engaged to be married, but there were a number of rumours regarding the extracurricular activities of both him and his fiancée. She does not appear to have taken his death too hard. Her LifeWeb page indicated that she had a new boyfriend two weeks after Mister Killian’s death.’

‘Okay.’ Fox frowned and looked out of the other windows. The Sprawl was north of the track at this point and there were a lot of lower apartment blocks in view. To the right, you could now see the high-rise skyline of central Detroit, spearing up into the cloudless sky like a bed of nails. ‘We are not talking about people with a great relationship with women. I know it’s weird, but Neiman might be the best of them. He seems to have some kind of stable relationship with Bubbles, even if it’s only because she remembers when his meetings are. Call ahead and make sure there’s a cab waiting at the station. I don’t think I want to be here any longer than I need to be.’

~~~

Wayden Tower was less of a tower and more of a fortress. It had a tower, a buttressed spear which rose out of a pyramidal base, making the thing look like a vast missile ready for launch. Occupying a large plot of land on the western edge of the Hamtramck district, it was a relatively recent build and so outside the main redevelopment area. The design, to Fox’s eye anyway, suggested defensive capability and, as her autocab drove into the transport hub for the building, she noted heavy doors overhead which could be dropped into place quickly to render the building riot-proof. They looked like they would hold out against anything short of a nuclear weapon.

Used to MarTech facilities, Fox expected the building to note that she had arrived and tell her where to go, but there was nothing aside from an offered graphic showing the layout of the reception level. There were no public facilities in this arcology, not even a mall, but there was a reception desk marked so Fox headed for that.

It was a large, circular feature set in a lobbylike room with a high vaulted ceiling and access points to the transit hub and the internal elevators. Most of the rest of the entrance level had been given over to Wayden’s Detroit policing efforts.

Fox transmitted her ID as she stepped up to a free receptionist, and immediately realised that she was dealing with an android. It was not hard to figure out: reception was staffed with androids, or Wayden made a habit of employing identical triplets. The one Fox was standing in front of was a smiling black man with tightly cut, black hair, brown eyes, attractive features, and very white teeth.

‘The facial set corresponds to a mark three Rossouw Arms Works Light Combat Android,’ Kit supplied. ‘They were designed for the more diplomatic side of war, dealing with civilians. They are, essentially, soldier replacements.’

‘Good morning, Captain Meridian,’ the android said, making it sound like it was. While Fox was really not bothered much by air temperature now, it was just above freezing outside, even if the sky was a pretty shade of blue. ‘How might I be of assistance?’

‘I have an appointment with Mister Sherman Wayden, scheduled for eleven thirty,’ Fox told him. Silently she added, ‘If he tells me to have a nice day, I’m going to pull all his circuit boards out and set fire to them.’

‘He’s a class three and can’t help it,’ Kit replied.

‘Of course,’ said the android, oblivious to his impending doom. ‘Please proceed to elevator bank three and go to floor one nine three. You will be met there and escorted to Mister Wayden’s office.’

Fox checked her map for the location of the elevators. ‘Right. Thanks.’

‘My pleasure, Captain Meridian. Have a nice day.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Kit snapped.

‘Okay,’ Fox said, turning from the desk and heading for the elevators, ‘but I want his programmer hunted down and beaten with a compilation of clichés.’

‘Inventive. The one hundred and ninety-third floor is near but not at the top. I am not sure whether that is interesting or not.’

‘Depends what’s above. This thing’s not as tall as the MarTech towers, is it?’

‘Eight hundred metres, but the broader base gives it comparable useable volume.’

The elevator ride was fairly quick at least: less than ten seconds to cover almost eight hundred metres. Then the doors opened and Fox found herself looking at a very pretty redhead with blue-green eyes, dressed in a very short tank minidress and heels which had to be Hell to spend the entire day in. Even with the five-inch height enhancement, she was still a good couple of inches shorter than Fox.

‘Captain Meridian?’ the woman said, smiling. There was a weird hint of nervousness in her voice and her smile.

‘That’s right.’

‘I’m Julienne Abbot, Mister Wayden’s personal assistant.’ That time there was a slightly odd emphasis on ‘personal.’ There was also a hint of a southern accent in her voice, though it was unlikely that she had ever spent any time in the southern states, when those had existed. ‘If you’ll please follow me…’

‘Miss Abbot became Sherman Wayden’s PA three years ago,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind. ‘It’s on her LifeWeb page. Interestingly, she dated not infrequently prior to the assignment, and has noted no such activities since about a month into her new job.’

‘You’re suggesting Sherm’s banging his secretary?’ Fox asked silently. ‘Probably more regularly than any of the girlfriends you found.’

‘I think that is an outlandish outfit to wear in an office, and I think that watching their body language might be interesting.’

Fox watched as Abbot led the way to one of the corner offices on a floor which seemed to be entirely business space. Presumably the upper management of Wayden Executive Services got offices up here, near to their apartments, whether above or below. Abbot opened the double doors at the end of the corridor and they walked into an antechamber: Abbot’s desk occupied one side of the room while a set of visitor chairs sat around a coffee table on the other. The PA was reaching for the inner door when she faltered and then turned around.

‘Uh, Mister Wayden is… still in a conference call to his people in Fargo,’ Abbot said and Fox did not need lie-detection software and all her sensory tricks to know the woman was lying. ‘Please, take a seat. I’m sure he’ll be finished… soon.’ Fox said nothing, but turned to the seats. ‘Can I get you some coffee? Or anything?’

‘I’m fine,’ Fox replied, sitting down and crossing her legs. She had decided to be a little more formal, since she was outside Palladium’s jurisdiction, so she had gone for a slate-grey pantsuit and grey kitten heels, but that was over a black, plazkin teddy. Her pistol was hidden away in the small of her back, under the jacket; it was not that comfortable for relaxing against, but she could make do.

That was a good thing, because she was still waiting after twelve minutes. Periodically, Abbot would give Fox a nervous smile and claim that it would be ‘just a few more minutes.’ Fox just smiled back and continued to go through the data Kit, and Palladium, had compiled on Sherman Wayden.

Since WES was a competitor and they were running the policing contract for the Fargo Agri-Zone among other locations, Palladium had put a little effort into examining the managers of the company. Since Sherman ran the Fargo contract, taking quite a hands-on approach, his name appeared in a lot of reports on the area and Kit had put them all in the package. Crime figures for the zone had dropped quite a lot since WES had taken over policing, a quite amazing amount in fact. Fox’s immediate thought was that they were under-reporting. Palladium’s analysis agreed, but the NAPA audit had shown nothing wrong with the reported statistics.

WES put their success down to a major crackdown on illegal drugs. There had, they had said, been a significant problem with drugs in the area, but the dealers had been caught and were now doing time in Rikers. There had been a big press conference about it with Sherman standing up front, smiling at the cameras and proclaiming a new era for law and order in Fargo.

Palladium had been able to find no evidence of a major drug problem in the area prior to WES’s arrival and, in fact, various bloggers had indicated that there had been few illegals in the area. There were conspiracy theories indicating that WES had manufactured the drug problem as an excuse to get rid of various ‘undesirable elements.’ Of course, believing the conspiracy theorists was about as bad as taking WES’s stats on face value.

Abbot got to her feet. The clock had ticked over to thirteen minutes after the appointed time for the interview. ‘Mister Wayden will see you now, Captain Meridian.’

Fox got to her feet without any particular haste and smiled at Abbot. The PA was sweating. Beads of it were visible on her face, but Fox’s enhanced olfactory system was picking it up too. The scent of fear, though Fox suspected it was the fear of being badly embarrassed. ‘Thank you, Miss Abbot,’ Fox said. She walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped through.

‘You’re late,’ Sherman Wayden said sourly. It was a tactic self-important people seemed to enjoy using when dealing with cops. Fox smiled at the man behind the overly large, chrome-and-black-glass desk. ‘I’m extremely busy. I can’t spare you more than…’ He trailed off as Fox just continued to smile at him as she advanced toward his desk. Without the camera to help him, Wayden was not quite so impressive. Fox could see the signs of bodysculpt work dotted all over his features: sharpened cheekbones and chin, reshaped jawline, work on the nose to take out a bump under the bridge, skin tightening and smoothing, and his eyes were not a natural shade of blue. If he had got his body through genetics and exercise, Fox would have been quite surprised, and his hair had been lightened from a darker blonde. More, the arrogance was there, but it came with a good helping of nervousness. Wayden was sweating too. ‘What do you want?’ he asked, pulling himself upright and frowning at Fox.

‘I’m investigating the deaths of Thomas Winsford and Barrymore Ashburton. They were friends of yours, Mister Wayden.’ The man had not suggested she sit, but Fox sat, settling easily onto one of the overstuffed, leather-and-chrome visitors’ chairs and crossing her legs easily. As she did so, she undid the button on her jacket, letting it hang open.

Wayden’s eyes dropped as though pulled by invisible strings. ‘Y-yes. They were.’ He managed to drag his eyes back up to Fox’s face. ‘I’m horrified by their untimely deaths.’

‘Of course. You were also friends with Kent Killian and Steven Deloit.’

His face reddened. ‘Are you accusing–’

‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything,’ Fox interrupted. ‘I’m pointing out that a lot of your friends, friends who all took part in a fact-finding tour of the Fargo Agri-Zone, have been murdered recently. Have you any idea why someone would want to do that?’

‘They were all vote brokers.’ There was a flash of something, probably worry, as he spoke, but his response was immediate. Probably, his response was rehearsed. ‘I’d have thought the reason was obvious.’

‘Oh?’

‘Terrorism. The killers are a terrorist cell. Likely from the Caliphate. They–’

‘NIX has no knowledge of a cell operating in the New York area, and there would be no point in them killing someone in Fargo. The MO is personal. These men were killed for revenge. You have no idea why someone would want revenge on them, have you, Mister Wayden?’

‘No. These were… good men.’

‘Uh-huh. Could you explain the purpose of the trip to Fargo?’

‘Thom, Barry, and Steve were there to gather evidence for the metro policing vote. Kent was working with me on getting them what they needed. It was a successful trip.’

Fox gave him another smile. ‘Yes. And Walker Burrage? What was his job?’

‘Walker? The company he represents provides our arms, of course. He was there to show the kind of weaponry we expect to need in a metropolitan setting.’

‘And David Neiman?’

Wayden adopted a wry grin. ‘Okay, so we had a little fun while we were out there. Davy was planning some cop film or something. Not his usual stuff, or there was supposed to be only plot-related sex scenes or something. But he wanted to see real cops at work, so I said, “sure you can come.” And maybe he brought a couple of his girls out there to… help him with locations and stuff. No harm, no foul. You know?’

‘Yes. I know.’ Wayden was relaxing. He thought he had everything covered. ‘Did Mister Winsford… get any of Mister Neiman’s girls to help him with anything?’

‘Uh, I… I mean, he may have. I think he probably–’

‘And there were no problems?’

‘What problems would–’

‘So, none of you knew about Mister Winsford’s habit of using illegal drugs during sex?’ Fox watched. There was the fleeting instant of fear and then the rapid submersion of that emotion with affronted anger.

‘Those stories on the gossip channels are lies! Thomas Winsford–’

‘Regularly employed a professional dominatrix,’ Fox cut in. ‘It was the only way he could get off without using Rockit. The gossip channels haven’t got half the stuff we’ve uncovered about him. But you already knew, Mister Wayden.’

‘This interview is over,’ Wayden snapped.

‘As you wish.’ Fox got to her feet and buttoned up her jacket. ‘I’ll say to you what I’ve said to your friends. The ones who are still alive, obviously. Make sure your security is up to spec. It’s not certain that someone’s coming after you, but I’d suggest you don’t take chances.’

‘My security is excellent.’

‘I’m sure. One other thing… My PA has been having a lot of difficulty getting the case files for Kent Killian from Fargo. I’d appreciate it if you could speed that along so that I can find the person who murdered your friends.’

‘You’ll have it this afternoon.’

‘Thank you.’ Fox turned and headed back into the outer office where Abbot was waiting to escort her out. ‘Want to start a sweepstake on when in the afternoon those files arrive?’ Fox asked silently.

‘No,’ Kit replied. ‘We’d both be going for sixteen fifty-nine.’

‘Ah, but you’re forgetting something. Fargo is on Central Time…’

New York Metro.

‘You were right,’ Kit said, sounding a little depressed. ‘We just received the case files from Fargo. They gave the final release clearance just before five p.m. CST. I guess I lost the bet.’

‘You can buy me a drink or something,’ Fox replied. They were in the apartment viron, and Fox was going over her notes on the recent interviews. ‘Have you had a chance to scan it?’

‘Scan is the correct word. I took a look at the autopsy since I assumed that would show up any similarities. Mister Killian was definitely tortured prior to death. COD was given as exsanguination, as for Mister Winsford. However, Mister Killian was found tied to a tree near his home with his belly opened up from hip to hip. It was carefully done. He probably took at least thirty minutes to actually die. There are obviously similarities, but it is not a clear match.’

Fox nodded. ‘Too close for my tastes, but you’re right. Go through the rest of the data. I’ll start on it after I call my parents.’

‘I’ll put a copy on it and set up the call.’

A few seconds later, Jonathan and Andrea Meridian were resolving into the viron. Fox could almost have suspected the avatars were masked: both her parents were wearing suits and Andrea’s long, coppery hair was tied up into a bun at the back of her head. Beyond that, they both looked good, if tired. Jonathan had had a little work done to smooth out some age lines and tighten a few things that were getting loose, but he still looked older than Fox, for which she was grateful. Andrea still looked a lot like Fox’s slightly older sister, though the updo made her look a little older than usual. They made an attractive couple; somehow Jonathan’s solid features, blue eyes and brown hair went perfectly with his more exotic, green-eyed wife.

‘Did I drag you two out of a meeting?’ Fox asked.

‘We’re just back from meeting with the NAPA audit team,’ Andrea said. ‘That’s two hours of my life I’m never getting back.’

‘Sorry, am I interrupting your dinner?’

Andrea waved the question away. ‘Too many snacks. I might fix us a light supper later.’

‘Snacks, wine, and the kind of politics that makes your belly ache,’ Jonathan said. ‘It doesn’t make you feel like sitting down to a meal.’

‘I’m going to take it that things did not get off to a great start,’ Fox said.

‘I’d describe the NAPA people as adversarial.’

‘Your father must be tired,’ Andrea said, ‘he’s actually using fairly diplomatic speech. I’d describe them as “wanting to see us fail.” The inspector in charge of the team is a man named Alan Meier. He smiled a lot and promised us a “fair and thorough investigation” of our suitability. He was lying through his polished teeth the whole time. Of course, I may be just being paranoid.’

‘They say they’ll be here for two weeks,’ Jonathan added. ‘They want access to every case the Watch has handled and they intend to interview a load of our people. They’ll be going after Ray and his staff too.’

Fox frowned. ‘Two weeks? They went through Fargo in five days and gave a glowing report. Kit?’

Kit dropped herself into the conversation seamlessly. ‘Hello, Jonathan. Hello, Andrea. That all sounded fairly bad.’

‘Yeah,’ Fox said. ‘See what we have on Inspector Alan Meier. If it’s nothing, get a profile run on him.’

‘I’ll check the Palladium databases, but I can tell you one thing immediately. Inspector Meier covers the entire Kansas Belt, so him and his team did the Fargo audit.’

‘Huh. Flag this through to our audit team. Maybe they want to take a more direct interest on this one.’

‘You think there might be something more than our paranoia involved, Fox?’ Andrea asked.

‘I don’t think we’re being paranoid,’ Jonathan said before Fox could reply.

‘I’m going to reserve judgement,’ Fox said, ‘but record every interaction you have with the audit team, and make sure all your Watch staff do too. I’ll drop Ray a message to tell him the same and put him on alert.’

‘This is going to be a terrible couple of weeks,’ Andrea grumbled.

‘I don’t think these audits are supposed to be fun, but they are supposed to be fair, and we’re going to make sure NAPA keeps them that way.’

17th January.

‘Alan Joseph Meier has been with NAPA for twenty-two years, starting out as an officer and working his way up.’

They were in a second murder room which Kit had set up for the purpose of analysing the Kansas Belt audit team; they had yet to decide on what to call a murder room when they were not handling a murder. Kit had exceeded the initial requirements and there was a lot more in the dark space than just Meier’s ID image: she had put in his family and known associates, and linked in all the members of his team. She was working on filling in the rest of the association tree, but there was quite enough of it just from Meier.

‘Twenty-two years and he hasn’t got to captain?’ Fox asked.

‘His rise was not exactly meteoric. However, his assignment to the leadership role in the Kansas Belt audit team was unexpected. Our audit analysis team suspect that someone applied pressure to get him the job which means that he has gained some important political backing from somewhere.’

‘Hmm… Has anyone run a financial analysis on him?’

‘A shallow one. He has a home in Chicago, an upper-level apartment in one of the more prestigious arcologies.’

‘Unless he’s very careful about expenditure, he’s living above his means. Get authorisation to make a deeper run. Include searches for hidden accounts and find out where he’s getting that extra income from. Is he political?’

‘He has a few vote delegations,’ Kit said, ‘but not an especially large number. He did support both police privatisation resolutions and showed some active support for Wayden during the bidding for the Chicago policing zone. Interestingly, his eldest son, Joseph, is employed by Wayden Executive Services. He’s a patrol officer in Fargo.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘I wonder if that was declared in the audit report.’

‘The Fargo Agri-Zone report notes no conflicts of interest.’

‘Huh. Okay. Keep going. See if anything else pops out. I’ll go talk to another you in the other room.’

Kit grinned. ‘Give me my love.’

‘Ha ha.’ Turning from the current display, Fox walked into the waiting elevator car, which was really just a visual convention anyway, and stepped out of it again amid the illuminated chaos of the Winsford/Ashburton case. ‘Other you said to pass on her adoration,’ she said to the instance of Kit waiting for her.

‘I believe that copy may be getting bored,’ Kit replied.

‘Maybe. What did we get from the Killian files?’

Kit turned and indicated Kent Killian’s ID image and a bank of documents rolled out for Fox to look at if she wished. ‘The documentation is sloppy and the detective, Gerald Barren, seems to have given up relatively quickly when he could find no forensic evidence to identify the killer. The case was marked inactive after three weeks and there was no additional data added to the files after the second week. The lab work was far better and that has given us the sexual element which appeared to be missing. Mister Killian was awarded a “good citizenship” prize two years ago. The award came in the form of a large quartz column on a wooden base which had his name and the name of the award carved into it. The award was found on Mister Killian’s lounge carpet, along with several patches of blood and other bodily fluids. The writing on the award had been defaced and the crystal was found to have blood and faecal matter on it. The blood matched Mister Killian.’

‘The killer anally raped him with his good citizenship award…’ Fox took a second to clear the imagery of that out of her head. ‘I’m going to say there’s a specific meaning to that.’

Kit nodded. ‘I believe it strengthens the idea that revenge is a motivator. The killer is saying, literally and figuratively, “You can take your good citizenship award and cram it up your ass.”’

Fox bit her lips together. ‘Don’t make me laugh in the murder room. So, what are we saying? Ballpark ninety-five percent chance that this is the same killer in all four cases?’

‘Given the evidence, something like that. I’ll get Pythia to run a proper analysis and get official numbers for the report. However, I believe we can take something else from these crimes having seen four of them.’

‘The killer’s quite possibly a woman.’

Kit deflated a little. ‘Oh, you spotted that.’

‘Uh-huh. Your reasoning?’

‘Well, three of the victims were anally raped, but an object was used in each case. This could be a straight man refusing to perform the act, or selecting the item to use specifically. Uh, that does seem to be a factor in Mister Killian’s torture. However, I feel these acts are suggestive of a woman seeking revenge for some sexual crime, likely rape. She wishes to subject the victims to the same feelings of humiliation and degradation, but doesn’t have the appropriate body part.’

‘Uh-huh. To me it’s also that it just feels like a woman. Ex-military or police, but a technical background since she’s managed to get through some fairly tough security.’

‘She knows at least some forensics,’ Kit added. ‘She’s managed to avoid leaving identifiable trace evidence at four crime scenes.’

‘Ex-cop then. Maybe military police, but a cop. Probably not current since she’s spent a while moving around the country and then hit two people in a week.’ Fox frowned at the image of Killian. ‘And she started with him… She started in Fargo of all places. It has to connect to the fact-finding tour. Or we have to prove it doesn’t so we can move on.’

‘Yes,’ Kit agreed. ‘That seems reasonable.’

‘I’m going to have to go to Fargo.’

‘Oh. Well, it should be a good test of your ability to handle low temperatures.’

~~~

Sheela Na Gig was a little quieter on a Tuesday night than at the weekend, but there were still enough people able to work whatever hours they needed to who were into the kind of kink the club catered for that it was far from empty. Then again, the ‘welcome back from the Moon’ party who were there to celebrate Terri’s return were doing a fairly good job of filling space on their own.

Fox, Kit, Sam, Marie, and Helen had turned out with Terri, and they had needed one of the tables out on the floor, rather than a booth, to seat them all. ‘But I still think you should’ve invited Jackson,’ Fox said as they settled down with their drinks.

‘My father? At this place?’ Terri did not sound convinced. ‘I don’t think he’d survive.’

‘I think he’s more resilient than you think. Though…’

‘What?’

‘Well, he’d have brought Mariel along. I think she’d have got right into the swing of things and Mariel in a leather corset and fishnets is probably explosive blood pressure territory.’

‘I concur with my colleague,’ Sam said. ‘I believe Mariel Hoarsen would make a truly wicked dominatrix.’

Terri pushed her fingers into her ears. ‘La la la la la. Can’t hear you. Mariel and sex are no longer allowed to be mentioned in the same sentence. La la la.’

‘No one mentioned sex,’ Fox said and Terri removed her fingers. ‘Sex was implied, but no one mentioned it.’

Terri’s eyes narrowed. ‘I will hurt you, Meridian.’

‘Only if you happen to have a really big gun on you, and I refuse to believe you could hide one in that dress. Anyway, how was Jenner?’

‘Grey. Everything else is classified. How are things down here?’

‘M.J.’s ratings went up six points this week,’ Marie said. ‘Naomi’s guest starring and the reviews have been amazing!’

‘I saw Friday’s episode last night. She was pretty awesome, but I think it was the interplay that sold it. All the Sisters, including you, really made it all look real. Your writer didn’t kill the dialogue, of course, but you all sold it.’

Marie giggled. ‘We didn’t really script all of it. Adrian wrote the scenes, but then he was there when we shot them and we tweaked the lines on the spot. He decided tying us down to exactly what he thought we should say wouldn’t work. We swapped lines around when we could because Gilly would never say such-and-such, but Anne would. It worked.’

‘It did.’

‘And then,’ Sam said, ‘after the celebratory party on Saturday night, Fox took Naomi home with her and, so I’m told, was very late to bed.’

‘Fox and Naomi?’ Terri asked, her eyebrows rising as she turned to Fox. ‘You go, girl!’

Fox did not blush, because she had worked out how to tweak her control code to stop it happening unless she wanted it to. ‘We… Yeah, okay, we did it like rabid bunnies in the spring, but… Well, we’re both busy women. I can’t see it becoming a regular thing.’ Sam gave Fox an odd look which she could not quite fathom. ‘I mean, it was… so hot. Damn! The woman’s worth every cent of whatever it costs to hire her.’

‘You should ask her,’ Sam said. ‘She’s here tonight.’

‘I noticed. She’s working.’

Sam gave her a smirk. ‘Probably not all night…’

~~~

‘Welcome back, Terri. How was the Moon?’ Naomi, resplendent in a plazkin catsuit with a leather waist cincher over it, took the seat beside Fox and stretched out her long legs.

‘Grey,’ Terri replied. ‘It’s always grey.’

‘I suppose it is. And you can’t tell me about any of the interesting things you’ve been doing up there, of course.’

‘Nope. I am legally obliged to say that nothing interesting ever happens there.’

‘Until it does?’

‘Even then, it didn’t happen. The first rule of Jenner Research Station is that nothing ever happens there. When it goes public, it happened somewhere else.’

‘Like me,’ Fox said. ‘I didn’t happen there.’

‘Okay,’ Terri admitted, ‘that’s a little more publicly known. And, probably, most people assume that some things MarTech produces come out of Jenner. But there are a load of projects that start and end up there because they don’t have any commercial viability.’

‘This sounds too much like work,’ Helen complained.

‘A valid point,’ Naomi agreed. ‘When did you get in, Terri?’

‘Got to the spaceport at six this evening.’

‘Hours ago. I was wondering why Helen was looking tired.’

Helen sputtered for a second before rallying. ‘I have a lot of work on… and Terri didn’t waste much time before getting reacquainted, no.’

‘She’s getting harder to tease,’ Fox noted. ‘She’ll be immune before summer and then nothing a criminal can throw at her will faze her.’

‘Oh, right,’ Helen said. ‘So this is on-the-job training?’

‘Of course. The Army calls it “hardening.”’

Naomi leaned closer to Fox. ‘You sold that very well. I almost believed you.’

Fox grinned. ‘I practise.’

Naomi’s voice lowered, both in volume and half an octave. ‘I hope that’s not all you practise.’

‘Uh…’

‘Have you anything planned for later?’ And Naomi’s voice was back to normal.

‘No…’

‘Good.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Fox said. ‘Tomorrow I have to fly out to Fargo. I could be there for a few days so I want to get a charge in tonight.’

Naomi smiled. ‘I can guarantee you’ll get a charge out of tonight. Trust me, I’m a nun.’

18th January.

She had asked ‘Do you trust me?’ and Fox had said ‘Yes, of course,’ and then Naomi had cuffed Fox’s hands behind her back. Another pair of cuffs had gone around her arms, just above her elbows, tightening the restriction, but the extra-flexible joints in Fox’s frame were quite able to handle the position she was forced into.

Then Naomi had gone to work with fingers and tongue. She had brought them to mutual climax through simple friction, and then she had taken the strapless strap-on Fox had once used on Marie. For two solid hours, Naomi worked Fox over, and Fox took it because she was, when it came down to it, a machine and she did not tire…

‘I… going over… again,’ Fox said between gasps. At times like this, she forgot to forget that she did not need to breathe; some things were just too wired into the brain. She was lying on the end of her bed, her knees on the floor. Naomi was kneeling behind her and working that damned dildo in and out with a sinusoidal motion that was driving Fox crazy.

‘So soon?’ Naomi asked. ‘I think you should wait… a little longer.’

‘Can’t,’ Fox moaned. If her brain emulation had not been so overloaded, perhaps she would have caught the weariness in Naomi’s voice.

‘Can. Will. Not until I say.’

Fox bit her lip and tried to hold back what she considered the inevitable. The feeling of pressure within her mounted. She barely noticed as Naomi sped up her thrusts, panting as she neared her own climax. Fox’s eyes were pressed closed so hard that stars danced and flares of bright colour swirled inside her eyelids.

‘Please… Please! Please, let me–’

‘Now! Come now!’

Kit had once described her orgasms as ‘some sort of cascade effect.’ Fox had no idea what happened with her own program when she came, but it felt kind of like exploding, dying, falling forever into blinding light. When it was over and her sensory inputs could be considered trustworthy, she felt… empty. It took her a few seconds to realise that the feeling was because Naomi’s strap-on was no longer inside her, and she struggled back to drop onto her ass on the bedroom carpet to see what had happened to her partner.

Naomi was lying sprawled on her back, a naked, blonde, long-limbed goddess with the obscenely pink dildo jutting up from between her thighs. Fox could have sworn the thing was throbbing. Sweat beaded Naomi’s tanned skin. Her chest rose and fell with a slight falter in it that spoke of weariness. The movement of her magnificent breasts was almost hypnotic.

‘You look… amazing,’ Fox said, almost a whisper.

Naomi laughed, a slightly laboured bark of a sound, and turned her head to focus blue eyes on Fox. ‘You are amazing. I… I haven’t had someone… someone tire me out this much in… quite a while. You… You just kept taking it. You’re so… so responsive.’

‘Uh, robot-girl here,’ Fox said, allowing herself to blush this time.

‘You are not a robot. Cyber-girl.’ Naomi rolled the ‘r’ sound, turning it into ‘grrl.’ Reaching down, she took hold of the strap-on’s shaft and pushed down, easing the bulbous base out of her with a shudder. ‘That’s a good design. Comfortable and very stimulating, and I’ll wash it in the shower. I need a shower before I lie on clean sheets.’ She got to her feet and padded toward the bathroom door.

‘Uh, I don’t suppose you could undo these cuffs?’ Fox struggled upright, her arms still fixed behind her back.

Naomi paused. ‘I’m not sure I want to. Maybe I should keep you as my personal sex slave. Chained up in the bedroom.’

‘I need to go to Fargo tomo– later today, and I’m going to have to sleep in my support frame tonight. You’re welcome to use the bed, but I’m going to need to plug in.’

‘Not hearing any incentive for me to unlock you…’

‘I can’t wash your… back like this?’

‘Good point.’ A pair of clicks sounded from behind Fox and she pulled her arms free, the electronic cuffs falling to the carpet. ‘Come along then. I expect a thorough… washing.’

Fox took a couple of quick steps to catch up and started the water running by remote. ‘I thought you were tired?’

‘I am, but I’m not dead. Fox… Would you call me from Fargo? At night. Let me know how your day is going.’

‘Uh, sure. I mean, unless something comes up, but I can… do that.’

Naomi stepped into the multiple streams of hot water and turned, smiling. She leaned forward and their lips met, Naomi’s tongue dancing against Fox’s. ‘Thank you. I’ll make it worth your while.’

Fargo Agri-Zone.

Fargo was living up to its reputation. Having landed her vertol at Hector International Airport, Fox took her Q-bug out to drive to the Civic Centre, where the police had their HQ, and got the odd strange look as she drove into the city centre. It was cold; the air temperature was hovering around minus four Celsius, a gusty breeze was taking that down to minus nine, and Fox was dressed in faded black jeans, work boots, and a leather jacket. However, Fox’s frame was designed for use on Mars, where the night-time temperature could get down to minus one hundred and forty-three. This was a summer day.

Well, a summer day with snow piled wherever no one had thought to clear it. The roads were clear, as were most of the sidewalks, but there was snow which looked like it had been there since December.

‘Average day-time temperatures do not exceed freezing here from December through until at least February,’ Kit supplied.

‘I was aware. Born in the Belt, remember? I was always kind of glad I didn’t live in this part, though they don’t tend to get the tornados Topeka sees. It’s not unknown, but it’s less common.’

‘Flooding is a major issue in the area. Flash storms in summer can be a problem. Our meeting with Detective Barren is not for thirty minutes. Did you wish to change before seeing him?’

Fox considered. Fargo, from what she knew of the place, had not changed a whole lot with the alterations in climate and the geological disasters which had changed a lot of America. It had taken a hit from the Yellowstone ashfall, but nothing like the land to the west had. In some ways, the volcanic ash had helped, boosting soil fertility when the country badly needed productive farms. There were a couple of high-rise buildings in the core of the city, including the Civic Centre which had been put up to replace the old one and consolidate government functions. The majority of the place, like Topeka, had stayed the way it was at the turn of the century. So, she was driving down North University Drive and the buildings around her were generally low, commercial, and surrounded by large parking lots.

Another of the larger buildings in the city was a hotel which happened to be right next door to the civic building, and connected to it via a glassed-in bridge. Fox had a room booked there. ‘Let’s see how efficient the hotel check-in is. We can drop off my bag at least. If there’s no time to change, Barren’ll have to live with me in scruffy jeans.’

Turning onto 2nd Avenue North, it was a straight run to the hotel, passing through what looked like part of the main shopping district. Covered bridges seemed to be the in thing; Fox noticed a number of them as she passed through the area, presumably meant to make it easier to handle the biting cold. There were people on the streets, however, wrapped up like Thanksgiving turkeys against the cold, and Fox got more weird looks from them. It was getting kind of amusing.

There was a multilevel parking lot beside the hotel with a small Q-bug bay on the ground floor. The cold probably cut down on the number of people who used the useful little vehicles. Maybe more were brought out for summer when the weather could get hot and humid. Fargo had actually won a poll once for the city with the toughest weather, and Fox could believe it deserved the accolade even before the climate shifts. Parking the bug, Fox took her case from the back of it and walked through into the hotel, and was immediately cleared for access to suite 2003 by the hotel’s AI.

‘I don’t really need a suite,’ Fox commented as she headed for the elevators. ‘I’m just a cop, sort of. I’m–’

‘You are Palladium’s most senior sort of cop,’ Kit replied. ‘Helen is technically your superior when you work on non-terrorist cases, like this one, and I am technically your superior in the hierarchy of the company, but all three of us know how the system really works. Practically, you are our top cop. Ergo, you get a suite. And that’s why I think you should wear a suit to see Detective Barren.’

‘Yes, boss.’

The elevator was fast and the hotel’s efficiency continued since Fox was registered with the room’s security by the time she got to it. The suite had a large lounge and bedroom, and a bathroom and office which were almost as large, but Fox basically ignored it all. She dumped her case on the bed, opened it up, and pulled out the suit she had brought along because it was more appropriate than jeans with tears over the thighs. Business fashion had decided not to change in the last six months, though Fox doubted that would last past spring; the dark pantsuit was still in and Fox put it on over the silky black thong and push-up bra she had decided worked better with the leather jacket. She added heeled pumps, checked herself in the mirror, and headed straight back out to meet with Detective Barren.

~~~

The Fargo Civic Centre took up an entire block and ran to fifty-eight storeys. As arcologies went, it was not a big one, but it housed all the local administrative staff, police HQ, and a few other offices for businesses and agencies with a civic bent. Lawyers. There were six lawyers listed in the building directory.

The cop shop occupied the entire fifth floor, just above the public-facing administration offices. There were labs and a morgue in there, but it was still a pretty big area for a relatively small operational police force. Despite this, it seemed that Detective Barren was unable to find a free conference room to talk to Fox in. He pulled a chair over from another desk in the detectives’ bullpen, waited for Fox to sit down, and then he said, ‘You do know you have no jurisdiction in this area, right?’

Fox frowned at him. Barren was shorter than she was, maybe five-nine, but heavily built. Broad shoulders stretched his suit jacket in a manner which suggested some custom tailoring might have been useful. His waist and hips were narrow, but his thighs stretched his slacks, ironing out the knife-edge creases which fell below his knees. He was attractive in a ‘boy off the farm’ way, kind of rugged, an outdoorsman in the city. He did not pay much to his barber for the regulation-style short cut, but it worked with his sandy hair. Fox placed him in his late twenties: his blue-grey eyes lacked the disillusion of age.

‘I’m down here looking for information which might help me find a murderer in New York Metro, Detective. I don’t expect to be making arrests. You were assigned to investigate the death of Kent Killian in October.’

‘And you requested the case file,’ Barren said. ‘What’s that got to do with someone killing people in a big city out east?’

‘From the autopsy and forensic data, Killian was the first of four murders by the same perpetrator.’

‘Four? When you asked for the file, I looked you up. You’re working the deaths of two vote brokers in New York.’

‘Yes. Thomas Jefferson Winsford and Barrymore Ashburton, but there’s another one. Steven Deloit, in Detroit just before Christmas. The MO isn’t exact, but there are definite indications that the same person is responsible.’

‘This guy doesn’t like vote brokers?’

‘Maybe. However, these four men have something else in common. They were all involved with a fact-finding tour Wayden Executive Services organised here last May.’

Barren gave a grunt. ‘That thing. Damn waste of time that was. For us, I mean. I’m sure the people on it and the upper management enjoyed themselves, but for most of us it was just two weeks of having to mind what we said and making sure the company looked good.’

Fox nodded, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. ‘You’re ex-NAPA.’

‘Yeah. How can you tell?’

‘No great love for Wayden, and their basic plan for handling investigations was to hire as many NAPA detectives as they could get. Plus, you get to know the look. Did anything out of the ordinary happen while this tour was in town?’

Barren paused, then frowned. ‘No. About two weeks after it, there were a couple of bodies found. Two women, naked, washed up on the shore of Lake Lida. Wasn’t much to be done about it by the time the bodies were found. One of them wasn’t even identified. Must’ve been in the water for a while and the labs can only do so much. We don’t get that kind of thing happening in Fargo.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Naked women washing up on lakeshores?’

‘Probable sexual assault and murder cases.’

‘Oh… sure.’

Barren seemed to miss the sarcasm. ‘Then the detective assigned to the case got killed about four months after. Morrie Guthrie. He died two weeks before Killian did… Look, you know how it is. One of us gets hit, we all want the bastard responsible. And Morrie was taken down hard. Whoever got to him, they tortured him until figuring out who he was under the blood was a tough job. So, maybe when some rich vote broker gets killed… Maybe I was distracted. Maybe I didn’t give Killian my best work. On the other hand, the lab got nothing to identify the killer. Guy was a ghost. No prints, no fluids, and Killian’s security system was taken out by a professional.’

Fox gave a nod. ‘It’s been the same in New York. The only thing the killer leaves behind is the way she works. Why do you think Killian was killed by a man? Or was “guy” just a generic term?’

‘Had to be a guy,’ Barren replied. ‘No way did a girl do that to Killian. He might’ve been a politician, but he was a fit man, worked out. He was beaten up and then strung up to a tree, which means someone had to carry him eighty metres from his house to get there. Then they cut him open like… like that Japanese suicide thing. A girl isn’t going to be able to do that.’

‘I could,’ Fox replied. She got to her feet. ‘Thanks for your time, Detective Barren. I’ll dig around a little, see if I can come up with anything to help my cases.’

‘Yeah. Whatever.’

‘Word of advice, Detective. Don’t underestimate the fairer sex. Some of us can get really badass when we’ve got our bitch on.’

~~~

‘I’ve requested the case files for Detective Guthrie and the two bodies found at Lake Lida,’ Kit said as Fox walked across the bridge back to the hotel. ‘What do you plan to do with the rest of the afternoon?’

‘Get changed again. Then I’ll take a run out to Killian’s house. I doubt I can get authorisation to go in, but we can take a look at the area the body was found. See if you can get us an appointment to see his ex-fiancée. You said she moved on pretty quickly, but maybe she knows something.’

‘Lizette Delvalle,’ Kit supplied. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I did manage to get some background on her. She is a favourite with the local gossip sites and channels. She comes from a moderately wealthy family and appears to have no impulse control at all. It’s reported that her family were rather pleased with her association with Mister Killian, hoping it indicated that she was calming down. Apparently, it did not.’

Fox frowned. ‘That sounds like it’ll be a fun interview.’

‘Possibly. I’ve also found a number of news media reports on the discovery of the two bodies at the lake. They were discovered by a fisherman who… Let us say that he had the presence of mind to capture a number of images before calling the police. These were sold to IB-one-eight-three and received extensive air time.’

‘Huh, yeah. Fargo Live Network. It serves the Fargo area, but the number is close to Kansas Belt News’s channel so people see it all over the Belt, usually by mistake. It specialises in gossip, which is never fact-checked, and making even the smallest petty crime sound like mass murder. If a six-year-old steals a candy bar at lunchtime, it’ll sound like an armed robbery with a dozen casualties by the time it hits the evening news stream on Fargo Live.’

‘It does, however, give us a precise location for the site the bodies washed up.’

‘Huh. I don’t suppose Killian’s place and the lake are in the same direction?’

‘Not entirely, but Mister Killian’s house is not far away and we have about three hours before it gets dark. Besides that, you can see just as well in complete darkness as in daylight.’

‘Okay. Download the waypoints into the bug and we’ll take a drive.’

~~~

Kent Killian had lived in a fairly new ranch-style house which was somewhere between conventional architecture and David Neiman’s glass house. There were some very big, floor-to-ceiling windows, especially on the side facing the Red River, less than a hundred metres away across a broad lawn. Most of the interior walls were, however, solid, and the blinds were drawn all the way around.

‘Not much to be seen from the outside,’ Fox commented. She was standing at the edge of what might have been termed the garden. There was a difference in the grass here: carefully manicured lawn which had gone a little wild since Killian’s death gave way to more roughly cut grass which went down to the river, or to the trees which formed a thick mass on the right. There was a little seating area here on the edge of the garden with four chairs set around a table. Well, it was probably useable in the summer. Right now, it was covered in snow.

‘Mister Killian was tied to one of the trees beside the river,’ Kit said. Her avatar was out in Fox’s sensorium and she pointed to where a spur of trees jutted out from the greater mass. One of the trees, just out of sight of the river, was highlighted in red and Fox walked toward it. ‘The killer looped one length of rope around the trunk at a height of two metres,’ Kit went on. ‘Mister Killian’s wrists were then tied to that loop. His legs were secured by a rope attached to each ankle and then cinched together behind the trunk.’

‘Pulling his legs apart,’ Fox said. ‘It’s another sexual element. If you want to look at it that way, anyway.’

‘He was naked. I believe that the sexual imagery applies.’

‘Yeah. Two metres up…’ Fox peered at the tree, superimposing the crime scene imagery from the file. ‘Unless we’re dealing with someone who really stands out in a crowd, she’d need a ladder or something to fix that. She had to have set it up before she started. You wouldn’t want to leave him lying on the grass while you tied the rope. Then she’s managed to haul him up there. She’s fit. She doesn’t need to be superhuman, but she’s fit.’

Fox turned from the tree and looked back at the house. ‘And then she cut him open and left him to die… looking at his house. Was it convenient? Did she want him found quickly? No, because she could have hung him in full view of the river. It was October and this area’s fairly private, but someone would’ve seen him. So, does the view of the house mean something?’

‘I have no idea,’ Kit admitted.

‘Neither do I. Except that, well, it’s like each murder has been kind of personalised to the victim. That’s another factor in the MO. Each death is a little different. Maybe she’s just improvising, but I think it’s better planned than that.’ Fox started back toward the house. The Q-bug was waiting on the road on the other side of it. ‘I doubt we can get much from here. We’ll go check out this lake site.’

‘I suspect that we will find little of use there too.’

‘Yes, but it gives me a better picture of the scenes. You never know when being in the right place might trigger something interesting.’

~~~

The two corpses had come ashore no more than a hundred metres apart on a rocky beach just off County Highway 4. It had been June then and the fisherman who had found them had been up at dawn; otherwise they would likely have been spotted by someone living in one of the nearby houses along the edge of the lake. There was one twenty metres from the edge of the beach.

In winter, with sunset a little more than an hour away, it was a bleak sort of landscape. There were a few trees about, but nothing near the beach. The lake was partially iced over, making the view even less appealing. If the bodies had been dumped in winter, they might not have come up until spring.

‘The single identified woman was Molly Anne Tailor,’ Kit supplied as Fox surveyed the landscape. ‘A tattoo on her thigh survived sufficiently to identify. It was custom-made for her by a local tattoo artist who knew it as soon as he saw it, apparently. She was nineteen, born and raised in Fargo itself, so this is some distance from her home. From the media reports of interviews with her parents, she went out for a drink with friends on Saturday, May twenty-eighth. Her parents noticed she had not returned home the following morning, but the police made them wait forty-eight hours before putting in an official missing person report. They filed that report at nine a.m. on the thirty-first.’

‘Huh. Well, it’s standard procedure in some locations. In New York, and a lot of other metros, if someone’s fitted with an implant, we can expedite things. It’s just a quick network location search. Out here it’s harder. Implant uptake is lower than the metro areas for one thing.’

‘Yes. Fox, there is another interesting thing about this location.’

‘Oh?’

‘This may, of course, be pure coincidence, but Sherman Wayden has a house at the southern tip of this lake. It’s about eight kilometres away, due south.’

‘Oh really?’ Fox stared out across the icy water. The land around it was almost as flat as the water, but there were trees down on the southern shore to give a bit of shape. The light was going, adding to the gloomy view. ‘Too late to go look now, but what do we think of coincidences, Kit?’

‘We don’t like them, Fox. I admit that I really do not like this one.’

~~~

Now that she had time to be bothered to look at it, the hotel suite was quite nice. Someone, it seemed, had been through and modernised the entire building, and the suite was fitted out with all the modern conveniences. Well, for a given value of modern. Modern as of five years earlier, which was probably good enough for most people, and Fox was a walking, cutting-edge piece of technology anyway.

The bathroom was fitted with a whirlpool bath with sonic heads, and a large shower with dryers built in. It also had a wall screen for those without implants, and was v-tagged to provide whatever form of entertainment the guest wanted.

The entertainment facilities were replicated in both the lounge and the bedroom. The lounge was equipped with enough seating for a squad of soldiers, a fireplace which was faked but could still put out respectable heat as well as giving a warming glow, and a drinks cabinet which charged automatically to the room when you used it. The bed was big enough to host a foursome, and you could lie in it while watching a drop-down screen if you wished. The pay-per-view porn selection was extensive.

‘I don’t think business hotels have changed much since last century,’ Fox commented as she stepped out of the shower and put on the silk wrap she had brought with her. The supplied, very-fluffy bathrobes were tempting, but not tempting enough.

‘I don’t believe hotel suites at the turn of the century had cable ports for computers,’ Kit replied.

‘No… Were they still mostly on modems and stuff back then? I think they might’ve been. They were right on the edge of ubiquitous wireless networks, but direct optical connections were decades away. I think. Network history isn’t one of my strongpoints.’

‘I could look it up, but somehow I don’t think you really want to know.’

Fox flashed her PA’s foxy avatar a grin. ‘Not really.’

‘When are you going to call Naomi? I shouldn’t imagine there will be much in the way of productive work you can get done tonight.’

‘Oh, uh, she said at night.’ The lounge had an entire wall of west-facing windows looking out across the city and Fox had not bothered to close the drapes. It was dark outside, aside from the glow of streetlights and the light from the half of the Moon which was in sunlight. ‘It’s night, but I kind of think she meant later. Like, at bedtime.’

‘Mm, yes. I expect she did. Remember it’s an hour later there.’

‘That still means it’s like, quarter past seven there. Have we got anywhere with the financial information for the audit guy, Meier?’

‘I’ll check. Why don’t you sit down and relax for a while?’

‘Because I’m terrible at relaxing in hotel rooms! I like my rooms. I’m going to go over the reports on Killian again and tomorrow I will find out what there is to do for fun around here. There has to be something I can occupy myself with without coming over as a workaholic.’

~~~

Fox called through to Naomi at twenty-three twenty. She had been going to call earlier, but then she remembered that they had midnight prayers, assuming that Naomi was in the chapter house. She figured that, if she was calling too late, she would call in the morning and make her apologies, but the connection went straight through and Naomi’s avatar, in uniform, appeared in front of Fox who was sitting on one of the lounge sofas with the flickering firelight providing the only illumination in the room.

Naomi smiled and glanced around. ‘This is nice. You’re not screening your avatar?’

‘There didn’t seem much point. You are?’

‘I’m in bed. I was just about to do a little reading before going to sleep, but I did hope you’d call before I turned in.’

‘Uh, well, I figured I’d call after midnight prayers. Is this too late?’

Naomi shook her head. ‘That you called is important, not when. Now is, actually, a rather fine time. I can relax in your company for a while. How is Fargo?’

‘Ha! Cold. I don’t think you’d like it. Not in uniform anyway. I don’t really notice it, but the locals are all wrapped up warm when they go outside.’

‘Is there snow?’

‘Some. The roads and sidewalks are mostly clear, but there’s snow elsewhere. It’s been clear today, but it’s below freezing so I guess it doesn’t melt.’

Naomi smiled. ‘I wish I could see the view, but the cameras don’t cover the windows.’ The image Naomi was seeing was put together from Fox’s sensory data and the room’s cameras, but the latter were trained on the room, not the view out the window.

Fox got to her feet and started toward the window. ‘There’s not that much to see, but I can… There.’

‘Oh!’ Naomi’s exclamation seemed to come from right behind Fox’s left ear. ‘I’m looking directly out of your eyes?’

‘Uh-huh. I’m software on a cyberframe, remember? I can redirect sensory data more easily than you could. I’ve been learning to run whatever system I’m in better for the last few months. I figured, if I’m going to be a ghost in a frame, I should get good at it.’ Fox stepped up to the glass. She still had not drawn the curtains and the view of Fargo’s eastern side continued to be an array of lights from twenty storeys up. Just to the right was another block, this one belonging to some banking organisation, but that was dark now, a black mass in the darkness.

‘You’re right,’ Naomi said, ‘it’s not really that exciting. How high are you?’

‘Floor number twenty. Right at the top. I could show you this in some alternate spectrums. That might make it more exciting. Though I kind of doubt it.’

Naomi giggled and Fox felt a little flutter in her stomach, and wished briefly that she had Kit’s ability to analyse her own thought processes so that she could find out what that actually was. ‘I know how to make it more exciting,’ Naomi said.

‘How?’

‘Untie your robe.’

‘I’m standing in front of a window, Naomi.’

‘Yes. Do you trust me, Fox?’

There was the tiniest pause and then Fox said ‘Yes’ and untied the belt of her wrap.

‘Good. Now slide it off your shoulders. Let it drop to the floor.’

Fox’s heart was not hammering in her chest and her throat was not dry, but her nipples were stiffening as the silk slipped past them and she knew that she was beginning to get wet. No one could see her. She was a dark shape in a window twenty floors up in the air. Anyone looking from below would be blinded by the streetlights and there was no one in the bank building. Still, she felt the sense of naughtiness as she obeyed Naomi, stripped for her, where someone might see her.

‘You’re beautiful, Fox,’ Naomi said, her voice a whisper in Fox’s ear. ‘Call me again tomorrow night. Goodnight, my pet.’

‘Goodnight,’ Fox said, or thought she did, and then the connection was gone. ‘Kit, did I pack a vibrator?’

‘I don’t think so, Fox. No.’

‘Damn. That’s something else to look for tomorrow then.’

19th January.

‘Are you happy with your purchase?’ Kit asked as Fox exited an adult store she had managed to locate not too far from the hotel. ‘To be honest, you seemed to do perfectly well last night without–’

‘I am happy, thank you,’ Fox said, fingering the little lipstick vibrator in her pocket. ‘It should do nicely. Anything specific on the calendar?’

There was a smirk in Kit’s voice when she answered. ‘You have a lunch meeting with Lizette Delvalle at midday.’

‘Lunch meeting?’

‘At the Delvalle Country Club. I would suggest an alternate outfit. I looked the club up and it is quite a prestigious establishment.’ Several images appeared, sliding through Fox’s sensorium, showing a relatively modern but upscale building, large and single storey, and set in grassland with a large fountain in front of it in the middle of a wide driveway. The interior shots showed ornately decorated rooms, men in suits or smart casuals, and women in evening gowns or a variety of smart daywear.

‘Great. Looks like I’m going to need a dress. Find me a local fabricator that does fast orders and you’d better order a cab to take us to this country club. Country club? Seriously? In Fargo in the middle of winter?’

‘Miss Delvalle is a socialite,’ Kit replied. ‘And her family does own the club.’

~~~

The Delvalle Country Club was just as grand in person as it was in the images Kit had found, but the people outside it were dressed a little differently. There was an eighteen-hole golf course behind the grandiose building with its thermal-glass frontage and statuary, and people were setting out to play followed by caddie-bots. It was several degrees below freezing, and people were off to smack a little white ball with a stick. Fox figured they had to be wearing heated undersuits beneath their bright golfing outfits.

Then again, Fox was in a little black dress and she got one or two surprised looks as she stepped out of her autocab and walked calmly across the tarmac to the front entrance of the clubhouse. She had gone to the trouble of adding a little light make-up, and her pistol was hidden away in a clutch purse. She looked like a lady about to lunch, aside from the fact that the sub-zero temperatures were not bothering her in the least.

Inside, the country club continued to impress, if you were into that kind of thing. The architecture and decoration had to be twenty or thirty years old, but it borrowed a lot from European palace fashions and so was both always in and always out of date. Fox walked up to the reception desk, which was staffed by humans, and was about to speak when the woman in front of her smiled and got in first.

‘Captain Meridian, welcome to the Delvalle Country Club. Miss Delvalle is expecting you in the Solar Lounge.’ The receptionist pointed to her right, Fox’s left, and Fox looked around to see a sign over a doorway which proclaimed that the Solar Lounge was that way.

‘Thank you,’ Fox said. ‘Very efficient.’

‘The Delvalle Country Club strives to meet all our guests’ requirements.’

‘And they have an excellent dental plan it would seem,’ Kit said as Fox headed for the lounge. ‘Her teeth could blind someone at twenty metres.’

The Solar Lounge was a restaurant, or maybe a tea room, set on the south-eastern side of the clubhouse so that it would, theoretically, catch the sun. The entire outer wall and ceiling were insulated glass, but it was not that bright a day so the light was being enhanced with lamps set along the structural elements holding the glass up. The place was full of round tables with dainty tablecloths. The chairs, all with ornate decoration from some design style out of the English countryside, looked comfortable at least.

‘Which one’s Delvalle?’ Fox asked.

An ID image appeared for Fox to check out and, a second later, a figure sitting at one of the window seats was highlighted. Lizette Delvalle was a pretty woman. Not especially tall, she did have long legs which were neatly crossed and shown off by the short, rose-coloured tank minidress she was wearing. The dress also showed off her bust well; though she did not have a substantial chest, the dress was working it well. There was plenty of skin on display, but Delvalle had hose on and there was a jacket over the back of her seat. As Fox closed the distance, her software detected no signs of modification: this was a natural beauty. Long, blonde hair fell to the small of her back and her eyes were a clear blue. Her features were small and quite delicate. There was an upturned nose, high cheekbones, and a dainty chin below a small mouth with full lips. And when she spotted Fox approaching, the rather bored expression on her face changed to something like glee and she bounced up onto her four-inch heels, beaming.

‘Tara Meridian, as I live and breathe. I was so excited when your PA asked for a meeting. Are you investigating something exciting? Oh! Am I a suspect? That would be really amazing!’

Fox smiled and took the offered hand. ‘No, Miss Delvalle, I’m looking into the death of your ex-fiancé.’

‘Please, call me Lizy. Everyone does. Which ex are we talking about? I’ve had three.’ Delvalle dropped back into her seat, still smiling. ‘No, wait, you must mean Kent because the other two are still alive, more’s the pity.’ She had an Upper Midwestern accent, though not a massively strong one; the vowels sounded more European than American.

Fox took the seat opposite her hostess. ‘Kent Killian, yes. I was hoping you could give me some background on him.’

‘Kent…’ Delvalle pursed her lips. ‘Do have something to eat.’

Fox smiled. ‘I don’t really need food these days.’ She leaned forward and picked up a coffee pot which was in the middle of the table. It was noticeable that Delvalle was drinking something which Fox’s olfactory systems suggested was a martini. ‘I’ll take some coffee, however.’

‘Oh, of course. Apologies. I did know you liked coffee. And I knew about the food thing but it’s just that actually seeing you, it’s very hard to believe you’re…’

‘Not human? Thank you. It’s always nice when people forget. Kent Killian?’

Delvalle took a sip of her martini. ‘Oh, yes. Kent was an absolute asshole. I’m sure you’ve had your PA go through the gossip columns, so you know neither of us was faithful. Neither of us was in it for love, you understand. My family thought he was “a proper marriage prospect,” and he wanted the association with the Delvalle name. We agreed that seeing other people was not a problem, so long as we told each other about it.’

‘And he didn’t?’

‘He couldn’t! He’d bang anything without the legs to run away. Oh, he tried his hardest to be discreet about it. The reports on the gossip streams were the tip of the iceberg. I’m almost positive he got most of his vote delegations through screwing the right people.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘The truth is that he really didn’t think of women as anything more than… disposable. We were all just animated masturbation tools, except for the few who were useful for his politics, and he didn’t respect them either.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘And you were still planning to marry this guy?’

‘I was going to be engaged for however long it took for me to persuade my family what a bastard he was. I won’t say I was sorry he died. I thought the manner of his death was a little… extreme? If you’re looking for suspects, I’d imagine the boyfriends and fathers of half the deflowered virgins of the Agri-Zone would have liked to gut him.’

‘That would, in a way, fit,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind.

‘If it wasn’t for the other three bodies we’ve got,’ Fox replied. Aloud she said, ‘Did you meet the people who came in for the policing fact-finding tour Mister Killian organised with Sherman Wayden? This would be last May.’

‘Oh, that. Neither Kent nor Sherman did any of the organising. Some efficient young woman from Detroit did it all.’

‘Julienne Abbot? Julie?’

‘That’s her. Cute little redhead. Only had eyes for Sherman, unfortunately, though why I don’t know. The man’s little better than Kent was. None of them were much better, actually. Let’s see, there was Steve.’

‘Steven Deloit.’

‘That’s him. Probably the best of them. He propositioned me a couple of days in, but he seemed to take my refusal quite well. Walker was just sort of strong and silent. Didn’t really talk to him. Thom gave me the creeps. He looked at me like… Like a serial killer or something. I can’t quite explain it, but he never said anything. Barry Ashburton was a total sleaze. No, I tell a lie, because there was another one with them, uh, Davy?’

‘David Neiman.’

‘Yes! He gave a bad name to slime. He asked me twice if I’d like to… have sex. He didn’t put it like that. He carried an expensive-looking video camera around with him. Everywhere he went. And he asked if I’d…’ Delvalle faltered and it became apparent that there were at least some things which could make her blush. Her voice dropped. ‘He wanted to video me. Naked. And… doing things to myself.’

‘He produces and directs adult videos and sensies,’ Fox said. ‘I’ve spoken to him.’

‘Yes, well, compared to him, Barry was a complete gentleman, but he propositioned me twice at the party.’

‘Party?’

Delvalle nodded. ‘It wasn’t a bad party. To be honest, I met the group a few times while they were in town, but I tried to stay away as much as possible. But the last night they were here, that would be the third of June, they had a party at Kent’s place. It went pretty well, I think. I think Kent got a couple of local girls, professionals, in to, um, make things interesting. Davy was wandering around with his camera. I got drunk, so I must’ve been having a good time. I don’t generally get drunk. It’s not like me.’

Fox watched as Delvalle took a large sip of her martini. There were stress indicators: tightening around the eyes, furrowing of the brow, tugging at the corners of her lips. The woman was troubled about something. ‘You don’t seem to remember the details.’

‘Like I said, I got drunk. I woke up on the lounge carpet, would you believe?’

‘It can happen.’

‘Are you thinking that they…’ Kit began and trailed off.

‘Cupie would explain a lot,’ Fox replied. ‘I doubt she remembers those girls she said were prostitutes well enough to be much use in a court either.’

‘But Mister Neiman was filming the entire thing.’

‘Yeah…’

‘Anyway, I didn’t like any of them,’ Delvalle said. ‘And as far as I could tell, the entire thing was an excuse to come out here and party. Oh, they toured the area and met some of Sherman’s people, but they were gone almost every night. I think they went to Sherman’s place. He has this huge compound out on Lake Lida.’

Fox nodded and drained her coffee cup. ‘Thank you, Lizy. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘I have?’

‘Really. Yes.’

‘That’s good. Uh, I have the rest of the afternoon free. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to, um…’

Fox smiled. ‘Sorry, I have work, flattering though the offer is.’

Delvalle returned the smile. ‘A girl has to ask.’

~~~

‘You seem weary,’ Naomi said. ‘Is that why you appear to be lying in a hot tub?’

Fox let out a short laugh. ‘It’s relaxing, even though it doesn’t do much for tired synthetic muscles. It’s been a long day.’

‘Case not going well?’

‘It’s… It’s taking some turns for the nasty. I think I have a good idea why these guys have been killed, but the who is a mystery which makes the why part vague… I was out interviewing people who met the dead guys when they were all here in May. That was my afternoon and well into the evening.’

‘And before that?’

Fox grinned. ‘Before that, I bought a vibrator and got propositioned by a socialite.’

Naomi laughed. ‘Was she pretty?’

‘Yeah, I’d say she was.’ Fox pulled up the ID image she had of Lizette Delvalle. ‘She was engaged to one of the victims, a vote broker out here. Didn’t like him much. I don’t think she was exactly mortified when he died.’

‘Hmm, yes, a natural beauty. Perhaps your time would have been better filled with accepting her offer.’

‘I had work,’ Fox said, but she had to consider that Naomi had a point. Trailing around shops, restaurants, a fire house, one church, and two brothels had increased her knowledge of the killer and her victims by a negligible percentage. She had come away with a vague impression of fear: everyone had seemed nervous about discussing the tour. The madam of one of the brothels had expressed an opinion that the people who had come to see her establishment had not been likeable men, but would give no particular details. Spending the afternoon with Delvalle might have got more details on Killian and the others. Maybe. ‘You might be right, but I had work.’

‘I’ll be working tomorrow night.’

‘Sheela Na Gig?’

Naomi shook her head. ‘I’ll be doing a stint in our brothel.’ A sly grin twisted the corners of her lips. ‘When you call tomorrow night, make sure you have your vibrator handy.’

‘O-okay.’

The grin on Naomi’s face broadened. ‘You do trust me, don’t you, Fox?’

‘Sure. Of course I do.’

‘Good. I’ll talk to you then. Sleep well.’

‘I don’t have much choice. Night, Naomi.’ Fox waited for the connection to close and then pulled herself up, stepping out of the bath and grabbing a towel.

‘Are you going to run a sleep cycle?’ Kit asked. ‘It’s still early.’

‘No, I’m going to test that vibrator. I don’t really know what that woman’s planning for tomorrow, but my imagination is coming up with all kinds of scenarios already.’

20th January.

Fox sat in her hotel room, watching the newsfeed from MCN. Motor City News was one of the big names in news multicasting, if you happened to live in Detroit; outside the area it was almost unknown, but it had the best coverage of the current event Fox was interested in.

The presenter was a handsome man who had had a lot of facial work done to get that way. He was managing to look suitably serious, however. ‘… exploded just before ten forty Eastern killing seven people working late in the Detroit Civil Complex. The identities of the victims have not been released at this time, but all are believed to be members of the administration.’

‘Just put a message through to Ryan, would you, Kit?’ Fox asked. ‘Make sure he’s noticed this and is doing something about it. I’m sure he has, but…’

‘Better safe than sorry,’ Kit agreed.

‘No individual or group has claimed responsibility for the bombing,’ the presenter went on as video of fire pouring out of office windows played behind him. ‘Wayden Executive Services personnel are investigating along with NIX and NAPA antiterrorism experts.’

‘I wonder when we’ll see the report on that,’ Fox mused. She muted the news channel as they fell into speculation from a collection of local ‘experts.’

‘I am not entirely sure,’ Kit replied, ‘though I believe that NIX will follow the letter of the new regulations very carefully where there is a public incident involved. They will wish to appear to be doing everything right where someone might notice them doing something wrong.’

‘Good point. Drop a message to Candler and let him know I’m out of town in case he needs to contact me about this Detroit thing.’

‘Certainly. Speaking of reports, however, I’ve received notification from our legal department that Wayden Executive Services are attempting to deny us access to the files on the two women and Detective Guthrie.’

Fox frowned. ‘Why?’

‘What I have from legal is that they are saying there can be no connection between these local cases and anything in New York Metro. They–’

‘That isn’t their call. They need an operational or security justification for denying access. Give legal a push. Tell them the bodies were being investigated by Guthrie and Guthrie’s torture-death is an indication of a possible link to our homicides. I want those reports. In fact, the more they don’t want me to have them, the more I want them.’

‘Yes, Fox.’

‘But… The girl they identified, see if her parents will talk to me.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Kit replied. ‘That will be a fun interview.’

‘I doubt I’m going to have to turn down any propositions, no.’

~~~

The Tailors had a single-storey house in the northern part of the city, set among any number of similar wood-frame houses which formed the neighbourhood. It was painted blue, quite freshly as far as Fox could see. It was six p.m. and there was a hulking SUV parked outside. Fox got off her Q-bug and walked past the vehicle to the front door. There was just a pushbutton doorbell, so she pressed it and waited.

The man who answered the door reminded Fox of her father. Jeremiah Tailor was younger, forty-two according to Kit’s searches, but he had the same sort of solid body gained from manual labour; he worked on one of the local farms. He kept his brown hair cut short and his hazel eyes were probably the oldest feature about him. The Tailors were not that old and they could have another child, but they would always remember the one they had lost.

‘You’re Captain Meridian?’ Jeremiah asked.

‘Yes, sir. Tara Meridian. I’m with Palladium Security Solutions, based in New York Metro. We handle the policing there.’

He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and finally said, ‘You’d better come in.’

The front room was not huge, but it was well decorated and clean, and cosy. There was a fake fire pumping out heat and the orange glow of projected flames. The furniture had a flowery pattern printed on the cloth: a three-piece sofa set with Sandra Tailor occupying one of the seats near the fire. The sofa was set furthest from the fireplace, but set up to view the screen mounted above it which was currently black, unused.

Sandra got to her feet as Fox walked in and Jeremiah closed the door behind her. ‘Captain Meridian, please, come sit by the fire. You must be cold.’ She was a fairly small woman, not much over five-foot-four, but she had a good figure and a pretty face. Coppery-red hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders and, like her husband, her green eyes looked as though they had aged a decade in the last year.

‘No, ma’am. I don’t really get cold. Thank you, both, for seeing me. I don’t have any jurisdiction here.’

‘Then why, if you don’t mind me asking, are you looking into Molly’s death?’ Jeremiah asked. There was a little hostility in his voice, but he waved Fox to take the sofa while he moved around to the other seat.

Fox sat down. ‘Okay, well, let me start by saying that I don’t know that your daughter’s case is connected to mine. At the moment, I’ve got a trail of circumstantial evidence. I’m hoping to get more details and verify the link, but it depends on getting data from your local police force.’

If anything, Jeremiah’s face darkened further. ‘Good luck with that.’

‘Jerry…’ Sandra said, her tone mollifying.

‘No point in denying it, Sandra. They did nothing about Molly’s death.’ Jeremiah turned to Fox again, his eyes hard. ‘The detective assigned to the case basically told us that Molly had it coming.’

‘This would be Detective Guthrie?’ Fox asked.

‘That’s the one.’

‘You know he’s dead?’

‘It was all over the news channel. They tried to find whoever did that to him. Molly… Molly and the others…’ He trailed off, turning his head away; the wounds were still quite fresh.

Fox filed the comment about others away for future reference. ‘Perhaps you could go over what happened for me. The reports my PA found in the media said Molly went missing on the twenty-eighth of May, a Saturday?’

‘You have to understand,’ Sandra said, picking up the story, ‘that Molly was a little wild.’ She looked around at Jeremiah as his head turned toward her. ‘You know it’s true, Jerry. There’s no sense in giving the captain half-truths. She liked to party, Captain Meridian. We tried to curb it, but she was at that stage. Rebelling was part of who she was. But she had Amy to keep her in line most of the time. Amy was a sensible girl.’

‘Amy?’

‘Amy, uh, Amelia Lomax. She was a year older than Molly, but more than that in outlook. Her parents died, you see? Both the Lomax sisters were mature, sensible girls. The night Molly… Molly vanished, she went out with Amy. There’s a youth club a few blocks away, and they went there. Detective Guthrie found witnesses saying they had gone there. There’s no drinking there. Dancing and others their age, that was what they got and they knew to be home by midnight.’

‘But Molly never came home,’ Jeremiah said. ‘Amy was living with her grandmother and she never made it there either. Guthrie told us they’d probably gone off with some boys. That was his answer. Gone off with boys, got into trouble, and–’ He bit off his own sentence before he choked on it.

Fox frowned. ‘And these boys drove them seventy-five kilometres away, almost a hundred by road, to dump them in a lake?’

‘That’s what I said! I said it made no sense, but Guthrie was set on it.’

‘You think the other body they found was Amelia Lomax?’

‘I– Well…’

‘That’s what we think,’ Sandra said, ‘but other girls went missing around then. I think they found Molly and Amy, but some of the others, the other parents, they think the second body might be their daughter. Whoever she was, she was never identified, so she could be anyone.’

‘Detective Guthrie knew about these other missing girls?’ Fox asked.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘He didn’t ask for DNA from the other families?’

Sandra blinked. ‘Well, no. No one’s ever mentioned it.’

‘I told you, Sandra,’ Jeremiah said. ‘The man didn’t care. When he was killed, Wayden never assigned the case to anyone else. They were too busy trying to find whoever killed Guthrie. The only cop who gave a crap about Molly and the others was Pat Lomax, and she had to quit.’

‘Patricia Lomax was with Wayden?’ Fox asked.

Jeremiah shook his head. ‘NAPA up in Detroit. Quit before Wayden took over up there. Quit to look for her sister.’

‘But she didn’t find anything?’

‘If she did, she said nothing. She came here in July last year. Weekends and holidays at first, then she cleared her contract and moved here for good, or so she said. She left town… What would it be, Sandra?’

‘October,’ Sandra replied. ‘She left about the time Detective Guthrie died. Maybe a week later. She said there was nothing else she could do here in Fargo.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Fox said. ‘She could have information and not realise it.’

‘Doubt it,’ Jeremiah said. ‘She was a detective up in Detroit. Pat never did anything by halves. If she’d found something, she’d have kept at it until she solved it.’

‘Okay. Could I get a list of the other women who went missing? I’ll put them in my data set and… Look, I can’t promise I’m going to do any better at this than Guthrie or Detective Lomax, but I’m a fresh pair of eyes and I think I may have an angle to pursue that they didn’t.’

Sandra looked at Fox for a second. ‘Will you be here tomorrow night?’

‘I’ve no plans to leave.’

‘There’s a support group. Sort of. We meet up every so often to help each other get through. This week it’s going to be here. Tomorrow night at seven o’clock. A lot of the families will be here and… And it might help some of them to know that a famous detective is looking.’

Fox gave her a smile. ‘Looked me up?’

‘I thought I knew the name when your PA said it. I’m not altogether sure what I thought you were going to be like, but the articles I read said you were a good detective.’

‘The articles I read said you didn’t take shit from anyone,’ Jeremiah said. ‘Uh, pardon my language.’

‘I’ve used far worse,’ Fox replied. ‘And no, Mister Tailor, I don’t. If I can figure out who killed your daughter, I’ll see them pay for it. No matter who they are.’

21st January.

It turned out that Naomi’s idea of ‘telephone sex,’ at least this time, involved her getting Fox to tease herself with the little vibrator for forty-five minutes. Fox was not entirely sure why she had gone along with it, but there was something about just doing exactly as Naomi said that made the whole thing more exciting. Even when Fox came out of her sleep cycle, she was feeling pretty good about it. Even the news she got in the morning was not enough to pull her mood down.

‘Are you going to be back in New York by Monday?’ Ryan Jarvis asked.

‘Probably,’ Fox replied. ‘I think I’m almost done here. I’ve got something to do tonight. I’d like to pester the locals about some case files, but I doubt there’s much I can do that legal can’t. Why?’

‘We’ve got a fundraiser, a luncheon thing, we’re having to provide security for. Jackson and Mariel are going to be there. So is Toliver Whitton. We’ve stepped things up a little after that bombing in Detroit and I’d like it if you were on-site.’

‘Is this a cocktail-dress-and-gun deal, Ryan?’

‘We’d want you mixing with the guests and keeping an eye on the VIPs, sure. Sorry, Fox, but you brush up nice and you fit in with that crowd. You’re just as famous as most of them are.’

Fox sighed. ‘When is it?’

‘Midday Monday.’

‘I’ll be back for it.’

~~~

Including the Tailors, there were a dozen couples at the support meeting, which made the house more than a little crowded. Then it turned out that one of those couples had met through mutual loss, a widower and a single mother who had both lost daughters, but had gained something out of it. In all, fourteen young women had vanished between the twenty-second of May, the day after the start of the fact-finding tour, and the second of June, the day before it ended. Fox noticed the coincidence, but none of the families seemed to have made the connection.

‘Claire went out shopping,’ one of the mothers said. ‘I sent her out for milk and bread, and she n-never came home.’

‘Kayla tutored a boy on the next block.’ This was a proud father reduced to a shadow by grief. His wife just sat there with tears in her eyes. ‘Mathematics. His parents paid her a little to help, but she mostly did it because she loved the subject. Loved kids. When she didn’t come home, we rang and they said she’d left at the usual time. We called the police, but…’

A small majority of the missing had vanished in daylight; sunset happened around nine p.m. at the end of May and the women would have had to have been out late to be coming home in the dark. Still, there had apparently been no witnesses. Detective Guthrie had, according to the families, never found anyone who had seen their daughters being taken, but Fox was finding it a little interesting that Guthrie had been assigned to all the cases, right from the start.

‘Did anyone get asked to give a DNA sample?’ Fox asked. ‘They have an unidentified body, so–’

‘Oh, Detective Guthrie said that wasn’t needed,’ one of the mothers said. ‘He explained it’s not like in the vids and DNA evidence doesn’t solve every crime. And he said it could be difficult to extract under some circumstances. Like spending weeks in a lake.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Fox replied, raising an eyebrow.

‘That’s not true?’

‘Well, he wasn’t wrong. There’s been a popular conception, brought on by crime shows, that there’s always DNA and the evidence is foolproof. These days, technology has made it even easier for criminals to get around it, but I’m a little surprised no one made the attempt. I’ll know more when I get the case files.’

‘I believe it should have been possible to retrieve a DNA sample from both bodies,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind.

‘So do I, but telling them that right now is not going to help them.’ Aloud, Fox asked, ‘Did Detective Guthrie give any indication of why he was being assigned to all the cases?’

‘We didn’t actually know he was until we formed this group,’ Jeremiah Tailor replied. ‘It seemed pretty reasonable, considering so many were missing. One thing they did right.’

‘Mm, but there wasn’t much press coverage of this, if any. My PA didn’t discover there were so many women missing when she went looking. The two bodies were covered…’

‘Detective Guthrie said they didn’t want to cause a public panic,’ Sandra Tailor replied, but when she said it, she sounded less than convinced.

‘Yeah,’ Fox said. ‘I’m sure they didn’t.’

~~~

‘Detective Guthrie was covering up the disappearances,’ Kit suggested as Fox drove back to the hotel.

‘That’s what it looks like,’ Fox replied. ‘Technically, the evidence is circumstantial, but that’s certainly what it looks like from what we have.’

‘Might I hypothesise?’

Fox smirked. ‘Hypothesise away.’

‘Patricia Lomax, Amelia Lomax’s sister, came here to attempt to find her sister. She would likely have realised that Detective Guthrie was working to hide the missing women and avoid solving the cases. She may have decided that the best way to handle the situation, from her viewpoint, was to torture Detective Guthrie for information. If the detective knew who the perpetrators were and told Miss Lomax, she may then have decided to seek revenge upon the men who killed her sister.’

‘I think that’s a pretty good hypothesis. Request whatever data we can get on Patricia Lomax. If she was with NAPA, we should have prints, DNA, psych profiles, the works.’

‘I’ll put the requests through immediately. It’s NAPA so we should get a fairly fast response.’

‘Hopefully.’ Fox had the Q-bug’s lights on and could see quite well in the usual human spectrum, but she had the advantage of being able to sense things others could not and figured that using an expanded spectrum while driving in the dark was a matter of safety. Car engines, even the electric motors in some cars, glowed in the far infrared, so did people. It made it easier to spot vehicles and pedestrians, or lone men sitting in a car with a warm engine outside her hotel. Thermal imaging was not good enough to pick up details, the wavelength was too long, but he was definitely there, definitely just sitting… Until he raised his hand to his ear as she turned into the car park. Interesting.

Pulling the bug to a stop in the parking area, Fox swung her leg over the saddle and heard the sound of something striking metal. The parking area was lit, of course, and she had no trouble identifying the sound as that of a baseball bat against a metal pipe. The owner of the bat was dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, and he had three similarly dressed friends armed with bats and a length of heavy chain.

‘They do not look like they want to invite you out for tea,’ Kit commented. ‘Should I call the police?’

‘Not yet. Let’s see what they want.’

‘You are not in your combat frame.’

‘I’m aware.’ Aloud, Fox said, ‘It’s a little cold for baseball practice, guys.’

‘You’re opening old wounds for families who’ve lost their daughters,’ one of the men said. He seemed to be the leader, the one who had drawn attention to the group. Fox examined him a little more carefully and decided there was probably a ballistic vest under the heavy jacket the man was wearing. ‘We’re not going to let you do that.’

Fox gave a shrug as they closed in. ‘I’d argue, but we both know bullshit when we hear it.’ Her eyes fixed on the man’s brown ones. ‘You’re full of it.’

The thug lunged forward, raising his bat, but Fox was already moving. She drove her booted foot into the solar plexus of the man with the chain and he let out a grunt of pain before falling back and away. He was down, but there was no way he was out and she still had three others to deal with. Ducking and weaving, she avoided the three bats swinging her way, jabbed at the leader’s face and watched him jerk away, and dance, and strike, and swing, and miss…

The leader landed a blow against Fox’s ribs as she dodged away from another of the bats. He grinned in triumph and Fox punched him in the face. His feet went out from under him and he dropped his bat as he fell. ‘You know,’ Fox said, ‘that you’re basically fighting a robot. I can do this all night and you idiots are going to start to get tired.’

A wild swing from one of the thugs resulted in his bat splintering against one of the metal rails around the Q-bug park. Chain Guy was back on his feet and swinging, but he had no idea what he was doing. The third bat-wielder got in a really good hit on Fox’s back, which she appeared to entirely ignore as she slammed her fist into Chain Guy’s stomach.

‘Fuck this,’ the man with the splintered bad said, and he reached into his jacket.

Knowing what was coming, Fox dropped back toward her Q-bug, leaving the chain swinging wildly through the air where she had been, and reached behind her for her pistol. The butt of a fairly big automatic was emerging from the cover of the jacket when Fox put three rounds in his chest. He fell, his weapon clattering on the concrete raft floor and blood already speckling his lips; she would find out whether he was alive when the others were contained.

‘Alright, fun’s over,’ Fox said. ‘When the guns come out, that’s the end of it.’ Inside her mind, Fox said, ‘Kit, we need cops and medics now.’

‘Making the call,’ Kit responded.

There was a clatter as the remaining man still holding a bat dropped it. His eyes rolled back and he sank onto the concrete in a dead faint. Chain Guy dropped his weapon and stood there looking scared. The leader, still on the ground after Fox’s punch, shook his head like he was trying to figure out what was going on. ‘You k-killed Eddie,’ he stammered.

Fox’s gaze scanned over the man on the floor. There was blood beginning to pool under him, but thermal imaging suggested he was still alive. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘You’d better hope the EMTs get here before that becomes true.’

~~~

There were, of course, questions. The cops arrived several minutes before the EMTs, which could have been accounted for by proximity to the police station, but Fox was not entirely buying that. They just about had to leave before the call went through.

As the clock ticked toward eleven p.m., Fox sat in an interview room watching, again, the video playback of the fight from her point of view. The fact that she could simply dump the entire thing out for viewing had seemed to annoy the captain handling the case. They had assigned Captain Ryan Anacostia, the man in charge of Wayden’s detectives in Fargo, to handle the case. Supposedly this was a courtesy, but the man was antagonistic to say the least.

‘And then you shot him,’ Anacostia said as three holes appeared in Eddie’s chest on the screen.

‘You can see the weapon there, Anacostia,’ Fox replied. ‘A little analysis suggests a RAW six-three-nine close-quarters assault pistol. Ten-millimetre caseless. Selective fire with a three-round-burst option. That’s practically a military firearm. He wasn’t pulling that to play nice, though if he handled it as well as he did the bat, he probably couldn’t have hit me. Someone sent those men after me to stop me looking further into the leads I’m following.’

‘You’ve no proof of–’

The video stopped and then restarted from the beginning, and then paused on the infrared-enhanced image of a man holding something to his ear. ‘That’s the guy who set this up,’ Fox said. ‘That’s him telling his goons that I’m arriving at the hotel. Did the one I shot make it?’

‘He’s stable. They think he’ll pull through. My understanding was that you used baton rounds. Baton rounds and stun guns.’ The tone suggested strongly that Anacostia thought of that as soft, more or less contemptable.

‘I’ve discovered that when I need to draw my weapon, we’re past the point of being nice. I usually have a baton-round magazine available if I need it.’

‘Huh.’ He pointed up at the screen. ‘That’s not proof, that’s… hearsay. Circumstantial.’

Fox stared at the captain for a second and then waved the comment away. ‘Whatever. You’ve got the video. You can see that they attacked me, whatever the reason. You can also see that I only drew my weapon when threatened with one. I’d like to get out of here before the date changes.’

Anacostia frowned, hard. ‘We’d all like you out of here,’ he muttered.

‘Give me the damn case files I asked for and I’ll be back in New York in the morning. I’ve no idea why you’re blocking it. Your reasons are bullshit.’

‘Maurice Guthrie was one of ours. A good cop who–’

‘Great,’ Fox broke in. ‘Guthrie was a good cop, so you want to know who killed him. Well, I think that person is currently in New York Metro and if I had his files, I might be able to make that case stick too. Protecting your good cop is an explanation for why you’re fucking about, not an excuse. Even then, it doesn’t cover the two floaters.’

‘What could they possibly have to do with the deaths of two vote brokers on the East Coast?’

‘Guthrie died while looking into their deaths. The person who killed them was trying to get him off the case? Maybe. Maybe it was something else, but it’s obvious that their cases are connected with Guthrie’s, and from what I’ve heard about his death, there’s a link to the deaths of four vote brokers, including Kent Killian right here in Fargo. Do us both a favour and release the files. Otherwise, I have to go to the trouble of complaining to NAPA Judicial, and you get your wrist slapped, and neither of us really gets what we want.’

Anacostia glared at her; Fox had been glared at by professionals. ‘You’ll have the files first thing in the morning,’ the captain said.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ Fox replied with a smile. ‘And in return, I’ll be out of your hair soon after. I’d like to get back to New York just as much as I’m sure you’d like me to do just that.’

Part Three: It’s a Dirty Job, But…

Fargo Agri-Zone, 22nd January 2062.

Fox was already reading the case files Anacostia had sent to her as she drove to the airport. Well, she was sitting on her bug and letting the AI handle the driving, but the destination was the airfield where her vertol was fuelled and ready to lift off.

‘There are DNA profiles for both women in the autopsy files,’ Kit said.

‘Okay,’ Fox replied. ‘When we get Patricia Lomax’s profile from NAPA, we can run a comparison. If they’re siblings, it should show up.’

‘Yes. It does make me wonder why they did not confirm the identity of the other victim using her DNA.’

‘Because they’d have to admit they had clean DNA samples and could likely determine the identity of both victims. There’s something rotten in this town, but we don’t have time to look at it directly. Check up on the audit in Topeka. I’d like to know how that’s going.’ Fox paused briefly. ‘Guthrie was tortured, but the damage is less sexually oriented.’

‘You don’t think it was the same person?’

‘We need to do a fuller analysis. I think it was, but they were looking for something different out of it. She was after information from Guthrie, not revenge.’

‘Do you think she got it?’

‘Well, there are four people dead since Guthrie. I’m going to say yes.’

New York Metro.

Kit waited for Fox to finish the landing manoeuvre before speaking; she knew that Fox could multitask and that Pythia was monitoring and could adjust the aircraft’s flightpath if needed, but… safety first. ‘We have received the data from NAPA on Patricia Lomax. One of my copies has been integrating it into the murder room and I have one of the forensics AIs comparing the DNA profiles.’

Fox finished shutting down the engines and checked that the brakes were on. ‘Good. Highlights?’

‘Miss Lomax is twenty-four and held the rank of detective in NAPA. She specialised in electronic crime.’

‘Oh did she?’

‘Noted skills in computer intrusion and security electronics. Not especially physical, but there is a note in her record that she received basic training in the use of electrolasers. She was part of a team who tried them out within NAPA Detroit. Nothing indicates a knowledge of pharmacology, but–’

‘It doesn’t take great skill to use a pressure syringe. Especially on someone who’s stunned. How long on that DNA analysis?’

‘It shouldn’t take a lot of time. The sequencing is already done, so it’s just a matter of data crunching. It would seem that Patricia Lomax is a very likely suspect for our murders.’

Climbing out of the pilot’s seat, Fox nodded. ‘Start getting a BOLO ready, Kit. Even if Pat Lomax isn’t our killer, I’m starting to think she knows a lot more about this case than we do and I want to find her.’

~~~

Kit looked around as Fox walked into the murder room. She had looked away from a new pair of identity images; Fox recognised one of them as Patricia Lomax from the NAPA files she had skimmed on the way home from tower three.

‘The results are in,’ Kit said, ‘and the previously unknown body from Lake Lida is Amelia Lomax. Uh, within the usual error percentages, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ Fox replied, ‘but those aren’t big for a match between direct siblings. That’s Amy?’

‘Yes. Taken from her student ID. It may be a little out of date. The image of Patricia came from her NAPA files and is definitely up to date as of last year.’

You could see the resemblance. The two women were clearly sisters, but Amy was far younger than her sister, and not just chronologically. The Tailors had said that both had been forced to grow up quickly, but Patricia seemed to have taken the worst of it. They were both pretty women with brown hair and eyes, but Patricia was a little paler. Amy had lustrous brown hair while Patricia was lighter, a short bob instead of long waves. Patricia’s eyes were hazel while Amy’s were deep, dark pools. They had the same nose, small and upturned, and the same mouth with quite full lips. The biggest difference was that Amy looked happy in her photograph while Patricia looked stoic.

‘Okay,’ Fox said. ‘The timing is bad. Patricia quit her job and the murders don’t take too long to start. We know her sister was one of the victims and she may have managed to get her hands on those autopsy files. We know she was looking into the deaths, and who could blame her. If she got half the run-around we did, I figure she’s fairly sure someone’s covering things up. I think someone’s covering things up.’

‘Agreed,’ Kit replied. ‘I have the data for that Be On The Lookout. Should I activate it?’

‘Yes. We’ve enough here to definitely place her as a person of interest. In fact, for now, mark her as a PoI rather than a suspect, but indicate that she’s to be considered potentially dangerous. If she’s located, I want it flagged to me for response.’

Kit gave a short nod. ‘Done. If she becomes visible within the metro, or trying to leave it, you’ll know.’

‘Great. And now comes the hard part.’

‘Oh?’ The pixie-elf-fox-girl’s frown of confusion was adorable.

‘Yeah, now we have to try to put the three survivors of that “fact-finding” mission under police protection.’

~~~

Fox had arrived back in the metro at thirteen hundred, local, and by fifteen hundred, Sam was installed at Neiman’s house to act as his official bodyguard. Sam fitted into the scene better and, if Lomax did have any plans to attack in broad daylight, he was well able to handle himself. Using an ‘outside contractor’ for this kind of work was unorthodox, but Sam knew what he was doing. Also, Sam was not going to be put off by the horde of naked and semi-naked women who were still hanging around Neiman’s place, security risk or not.

Kit had been trying to reach Burrage for two hours with no luck. Calls went to voicemail. Emails were not answered. Direct messaging through various services failed. This was why Fox was on the way to Walker Burrage’s apartment to check on him. She was half-expecting to find him missing, and half-expecting to find him dead.

Sherman Wayden had, of course, declined any form of protection from Palladium.

‘You’ve tried reaching him through the internal comms?’ Fox asked inside her mind. The closer she got to Burrage’s apartment, the more she thought that dead was the most likely outcome.

‘The building computers believe that Mister Burrage is in residence,’ Kit replied, ‘but a “do not disturb” indicator has been placed on his communications system. They are unwilling to bypass that with us in the building anyway.’

‘Helpful of them.’ Fox stepped out of the elevator and made her way down the corridor to Burrage’s apartment door. Sure enough, an indicator outside the door was showing ‘Do Not Disturb’ in bright-red letters and a similar indicator was transmitted back when Fox requested entry. ‘Huh. Okay, Kit, please note that, fearing for Walker Burrage’s safety, I am utilising police override procedures to access his apartment.’

‘So noted,’ Kit replied, just as the notice turned off and the door opened. The first thing Fox noticed, before she even stepped through the door, was the smell. Kit noticed it too and she added, ‘I do not think there will be any questions regarding probable cause for this one.’

Fox slipped her pistol from behind her back, though she was sure it was unnecessary, and advanced down the short hallway and into the lounge where she had interviewed Burrage previously. That was where she found him, tied firmly to a glass-and-chrome coffee table which had been dragged out into the middle of the floor. He was naked, tied with his legs spread, and there was enough blood to suggest the killer had done to him what she had done to the others, in some manner. Fox was fairly sure she would find some sort of insertable object lying around where it had been dropped. There was also blood at the other end of the scene, below Burrage’s head which was dangling limply over the edge of the table. Fox lowered herself far enough down to get a look at his face and winced: Lomax, and Fox was almost certain it was Patricia Lomax now, had drilled fourteen holes into Walker Burrage’s forehead.

‘There were fourteen girls missing or dead in Fargo,’ Kit commented.

‘Yes. I think this confirms the connection between all of the cases,’ Fox replied. ‘What I’m not clear on is why she drilled holes in his head. And why him, and not the others? Get a full team in here to go over this apartment, Kit. I want this place turned inside out. And change the BOLO for Pat Lomax. She’s now wanted in connection with multiple murders.’

~~~

Naomi was waiting in the house’s main lounge when Fox returned to the house. The tall blonde in the outrageous nun’s outfit stepped through the door from the lounge as Fox stepped through the front door, long legs carrying her quickly across the space between them.

‘Hi, Naomi,’ Fox began. ‘You–’ And the words cut out as Naomi smothered them in a kiss which started out passionate and refused to give up. Naomi broke it because, unlike Fox, she really needed to breathe rather than thinking she did. ‘You, uh, could have waited upstairs,’ Fox said with the taste of the other woman still on her tongue.

Naomi smiled. ‘Privacy is both a byword of my profession and a very complicated subject. I just wished to welcome you back to the metro and Belle indicated that she was expecting you to return soon. From whatever you were up to. Case related, I’m sure.’

Waving for Naomi to follow, Fox headed for the kitchen, which would get her to the back stairs which went up to her apartment. ‘It’ll hit the news soon enough. Walker Burrage is dead. Same killer. I was processing the scene.’

‘Oh,’ Naomi said. ‘Unlike the other victims, he did not really come to my notice.’

‘No. I’m not surprised. He was a rep for a weapons manufacturer. The others were all vote brokers. Conservatives. The only link really was that they all knew Sherman Wayden and went on a research tour of Fargo Agri-Zone.’

Naomi nodded. ‘How was Fargo? You seemed… subdued when you called last night.’

‘Fargo was cold, not that I really noticed. I think something really bad happened there during that tour. Anyway, I need to get a few things sorted out and run a sleep cycle.’

‘That’s early.’

‘I’m doing the night shift at David Neiman’s place. Of the people on that tour, only him and Sherman Wayden are left. Wayden refused our protection, obviously, but there’s a chance we might nab the killer when she goes for Neiman.’

There was a short pause as they walked down the hallway in Fox’s apartment. ‘You know who it is,’ Naomi said.

‘I have a pretty good idea. I have a pretty good idea why she’s doing it, but no proof. If I can get some, it won’t be just the killer who ends up in Rikers.’

‘You think Wayden was involved in… whatever happened?’

‘Pretty sure, yeah.’

‘That could cause something of a shitstorm. Palladium’s lead investigator goes after one of the Wayden upper management.’

‘Of this, I am also aware. I need a shower. Processing crime scenes is never a nice way to spend time.’

Naomi smiled again, this time rather more lasciviously than before. ‘Well, since you’ll be working tonight, why don’t I wash your back.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Wash my back? Really?’

‘Trust me. I’m a nun.’

~~~

‘How’s he been?’ Fox asked as she stood on the doorstep of David Neiman’s house.

Sam shrugged. ‘About what I would have expected. I’m not actually sure that he fits the dictionary definition of a misogynist. He doesn’t hate women, or find them contemptible, and I believe he understands the concept of “no means no.” It’s just that he assumes women want to sleep with him and his ability to surround himself with semi-nude actresses just compounds his convictions. He’s…’

‘Slime?’

‘I’m sure there are some very culturally sensitive slimes around who would find that remark insulting. Good luck. I’m relieving you at ten, yes?’

‘Uh-huh. Twelve hours with this guy… I hope he likes to get a full eight hours.’

It had been an interesting afternoon. It had started exceptionally well, in the shower with Naomi. Thoughts of that would likely keep Fox warm through the night, but she was not going to go there until Neiman was safely tucked up in bed. Then the forensics team had come back with the initial report on Burrage’s apartment. They had found a box of the mysterious nanodrug. The box had slots for sixteen bottles and nine were missing. Fox could account for two…

Then again, she still had no idea what the stuff did. She had put a call through to BioTek and been told that they were still working on simulating the programming’s effect on a human. Initial results suggested that the drug was designed to attack the nervous system, but the specifics were still unknown. She had asked them to put as much of a rush on it as possible, knowing that there was only so much rush you could achieve.

Neiman was lying beside the pool, surrounded by his usual bevy of beauties, even at ten p.m. He smiled as Fox walked in. ‘Hey, babe. Pull up a bench. Have a drink. We won’t mind if you want to lose some of those clothes.’

Fox had come in one of her usual outfits for work: fake leather jacket with a ballistic liner, faded jeans, sneakers, and a black teddy. She took off her jacket, dropping it onto a lounger near to where Bubbles was lying. Neiman’s smile got broader. Then Fox took her pistol from behind her back, popped the magazine and looked at it as though checking the load, slapped the mag back into place, and holstered the weapon. Neiman’s smile had become a little forced when she turned to look at him.

‘Let’s get a few things straight, Mister Neiman,’ Fox said. ‘If you call me “babe” again, I’ll teach you the meaning of “police brutality” without the use of diagrams. Second, I’m here to stop you being killed, not to be your friend. Third, alcohol doesn’t affect me, so you’re not getting into my panties that way. Please don’t try to think of any other ways. I don’t really want to touch you, never mind hurt you. Are we clear?’

‘Yeah, yeah, sure,’ Neiman groused. ‘Don’t know what you’re missing, but yeah.’

‘Given who I am sleeping with at the moment, Mister Neiman, I assure you that I’m missing absolutely nothing. I’m going to take a walk around and make sure this goldfish bowl is as secure as it can be. Stay here and enjoy the tits.’

‘Wasn’t planning to move,’ Neiman said, rallying a little.

‘Didn’t think you were.’

~~~

Neiman made a point of retiring moderately early, which was really not an issue for Fox, and taking three of his young women with him. Fox got the distinct impression that he was showing off. Or maybe hoping that the thought of a small orgy would persuade his bodyguard to join them. Neither of these options really worked as intended.

Bubbles was not among the trio and she stayed up, sitting with Fox in the lounge nearest to Neiman’s bedroom. The wall between the lounge and the bedroom, as well as the walls all around the two rooms, was glass, but Fox had closed all the blinds and, when Neiman had complained, she had told him what a sniper rifle would do to his head. The reality was that Lomax would not use a rifle to kill Neiman: she wanted to be up close and personal when she killed. However, the explanation shut Neiman up. Bubbles was another matter.

‘Do you really think someone wants to kill Davy? I mean, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to. He’s so nice.’

‘Yeah,’ Fox replied. ‘He’s just a sexually predatory teddy bear. That may be unfair. To teddy bears.’

‘I don’t know why you would say that. He’s smart and–’

‘I’m supposed to be stopping him from dying, and he can’t stop himself from coming on to me. What happens when the killer turns up while he’s banging away?’

‘Oh, well… He is good in bed.’

‘My girlfriend is Naomi Lind.’

‘Uh, oh.’

Bubbles clearly thought that was a trumping argument, but saying the words had a weird effect on Fox. Was Naomi her girlfriend? Well, the kiss to welcome Fox back to the metro had not been the kind of thing two acquaintances shared; Naomi thought they were more than just friends with benefits. Okay, so Fox had a new girlfriend without really trying to find one. She had put at least a little effort into Pieter and Marie… and Jason. Naomi had put the effort in this time. Did that make it different? Was this time going to turn out better?

‘You should talk to Naomi,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind. ‘Find out whether this is serious before you think about dumping her to save her.’

‘I wasn’t going to–’ Fox began.

‘I’m in your head and I know you far too well, Fox.’

‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Bubbles said. ‘I usually fill in silences by babbling, so you should say something before I say something stupid.’

Fox flashed the blonde a grin. ‘Sorry. I was talking to my PA. I don’t think you’re that stupid. You seem to know Mister Neiman’s calendar backwards.’

Bubbles waved the comment away. ‘Oh, facts. Facts I can remember. Dates, names, places. I mean, our scripts aren’t exactly Shackspear, but I remember my lines, first time, every time.’

‘It’s, um, Shakespeare,’ Fox corrected.

‘Oh.’ Bubbles gave a giggle. ‘No one’s told me I was saying it wrong before. I’ll remember that now. But I’m slow. I don’t… get jokes. Or a lot of other things.’

‘I suspect you’re selling yourself short,’ Fox replied. Considering her feelings regarding Neiman and her suspicion that he might end up in Rikers soon, Fox had to consider giving at least a partial warning. ‘You should look at other options. Work outside of this business. This company at least.’

Bubbles… Piper – Fox decided that she really had to stop thinking of her as Bubbles – gave a shrug. ‘Davy’s good to me. You’ll make sure no one kills him and everything will be good.’ She grinned. ‘Say, is Mister Clarion seeing anyone at the moment? He’s dreamy.’

‘His girlfriend just moved in with him,’ Fox replied and Piper’s face fell a little. ‘But you’re right. He is dreamy.’

23rd January.

Until the rollover of the old year into the new, Fox had viewed pseudo-political cocktail parties and their like as an annoying necessity. She was there to take care of business, making sure that Palladium got its fair share of the private policing contracts. Very occasionally, they were fun. Now, there was only the annoyance, but this one was still necessary so she had put on a short purple dress with a cleavage window, heels, and her best professional smile, and here she was.

At least it was for charity. In this case, the organisers were working on funding a plan to get more education into the Sprawls. Millions of Americans lived in slums, or worse, in the largely disused regions of American cities. They had little access to modern education which meant that society had a reservoir of people who did not undergo the memetic programming that tended to push people toward being honest, law-abiding citizens. Plus, they were never going to crawl out of poverty if they never learned to.

A good cause, but Fox was not there to eat the food and schmooze. She spent the entire luncheon section of the event walking the perimeter and keeping an eye on Jarvis’s security people. There were, in fact, a mix of Palladium security staff, brought in to increase the numbers, and Palladium cops doing standard VIP work. The big advantage was that they were all on the same communications system, and Fox was linked into that with a tactical analysis program running on one of her secondary processors to keep an eye on things. She could see where everyone was. Well, everyone except for the squad of muppets Toliver Whitton had insisted on bringing along: his personal bodyguard team. They were running their own comms and had refused to link in with the police detail. Fox hated loose cannons and there were six of them wandering around the hall where the event was taking place.

Someone had built the place, from scratch, thirty years earlier, but it was modelled after something like a New England village hall. Aside from the broad, glassed-in terrace which overlooked Great South Bay. Outside those windows, though you could not see it currently, there was a hydraulically mounted sea wall which could be lifted to shield the place from storm surges. Clever. However, it made for an enormously open, easily breached environment. Palladium had diverted three patrol frames to monitor the seaward side of the building. The Brooklyn Sprawl was just that little bit less secure for the next few hours.

And, with the food – food which would have likely kept the sprawlers happy for weeks – consumed as though by a pack of rabid locusts, everyone moved out onto the terrace for drinks and serious socialising. There had, undoubtedly, been deals done over lunch, but now was when the charity people would be really working the floor. And they had decided to do it in front of a huge window, with a clear view for anyone sitting in a boat in the bay.

‘I think you may be being a little paranoid,’ Kit suggested as Fox roamed the terrace with an untouched glass of wine in her hand.

‘Probably. The question is whether I’m being sufficiently paranoid. You’re monitoring the patrol frames?’

‘You asked me to. They are monitoring six vessels in the bay which are potential threats, but none of those are imminent. There are people on the beach, but none show indications of threat either.’

Fox stopped herself from nodding and smiled at the man she was passing, fairly sure he would not notice since he was watching her breasts. ‘If something happens, something related to the Detroit bombing, it’ll probably be inside the building.’

‘I am also monitoring the security microbots inside the hall,’ Kit said. ‘The building was swept before the event started, and the swarm is still in place, watching for anything which should not be here.’

‘Okay. So that leaves me and the rest of the team watching for someone who shouldn’t be here.’

‘Precisely.’

A voice called out Fox’s name from a few metres away and she turned to see one of the NAPA administrators waving at her. ‘I just hope my brain doesn’t melt from boredom before this ends,’ she said and started over.

~~~

‘How’s it going?’ Fox asked, keeping her voice relatively low.

Mariel Hoarsen smiled, and she kept on smiling as she said, ‘You don’t really think I enjoy these things, do you, Fox?’

‘But you always look like you do, because you’re supposed to.’

‘Indeed. Honestly, you don’t really look like you hate being here as much as you claim to. Either you’re one of those people who doesn’t know they’re having a good time until they do, or you’ve mastered the art of the diplomatic smile.’

Fox gave a slight shrug. ‘It helps that I can claim I’m working. I am here as part of the security detail.’

‘Let’s you get away before you have to shoot someone?’ Mariel’s smile looked more genuine now.

‘Yeah. That’s pretty much it. I–’

‘Miss Hoarsen. Captain Meridian. I’d like a word.’ Whitton’s voice came from behind them, which was probably a good thing since it meant that he saw neither of them grimace.

‘If you’d like to shoot anyone…’ Mariel said, and she left it hanging as Whitton stepped up beside them. Mariel gave him her best diplomatic smile. ‘Representative. How may we help you?’

‘The Winsford case,’ Whitton said. ‘I’d like to know–’

‘I thought we’d been through this,’ Fox said. ‘I’m not allowed to give out information on an ongoing investigation, and you need to go through the legally defined channels to get any information you need.’

‘We’ve had three deaths now,’ Whitton began, his eyes hardening.

‘Five,’ Fox interrupted. ‘Maybe six. I’m also looking into several disappearances in the Fargo Agri-Zone which may be related. I am actively looking into this case, Representative. I’m leaving no stones unturned and I will get to the bottom of this quagmire.’

‘A quagmire?’ Mariel said. ‘Oh, my. I should be careful, Toliver. You don’t want any mud splashing your way.’

Whitton’s colour shifted, reds of rage forming around his throat. ‘The only mud-slinging going on around here–’

‘Careful, Representative,’ Fox said. ‘My memory is admissible in court.’

‘Thomas Winsford was not the kind of man who–’

Fox leaned closer, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. ‘Yes, he was. If I were you, I’d start distancing myself from Thomas Winsford. If what I suspect is true, when this goes to court, you’re going to want to have nothing to do with him. And, as Mariel said, mud sticks.’

‘You really are backing the wrong horse on this one, Toliver,’ Mariel said.

‘You know the details?’ Whitton asked.

‘No. No, I don’t. Details of specific cases are not passed up to the board of Palladium’s parent company. That would be against protocol and illegal.’

‘Then–’

‘The difference between you and me is that I know Captain Meridian personally. I know that she does not make accusations without evidence. If she is telling you that trying to save Thomas Winsford will backfire on you, you should listen. Besides, he was an entirely reprehensible man purely on his politics. Don’t take yourself down trying to defend a misogynistic bigot with megalomaniac tendencies.’

Whitton stared at Mariel for a second and then turned without saying a word.

‘You really didn’t like Winsford, did you?’ Fox asked.

‘Not even slightly,’ Mariel replied pleasantly. ‘I don’t like Toliver Whitton either. I really hope he doesn’t give up trying to save Winsford’s rep.’

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

‘Oh, but I don’t have to, Fox. You’re an intelligent woman.’

~~~

The intelligent woman scanned the hall, wondering what she had missed. Nothing had happened; the hall remained as quiet as any lunchtime function with an abundance of booze, but Fox was sure she had seen something which had not quite made it into her conscious awareness. So, she stood with Jackson and Mariel as they talked to some of the charity people, and scanned for anything which did not make sense.

‘Where’s Whitton?’ Fox asked silently.

‘Hidden behind the crowd on your right,’ Kit replied. ‘I have him on three of the security cameras. He has one of his bodyguards with him. The others are walking the room.’

‘Keep an eye on him.’

‘Always.’

‘That’s odd,’ Jackson said and Fox’s attention snapped to him.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I thought I knew all the standard sculpts on the Sylph and Djinn models.’

Fox followed his gaze just in time to spot a figure in the waistcoat, shirt, and slacks of the serving staff as he passed out of view thanks to that crowd on the right. MarTech had arranged for an entire staff of androids to handle the service roles, all of them Sylph or Djinn models since they were the most human-looking. ‘Stay here,’ Fox said and, since Kit was busy watching Whitton, Fox ran a query to her short-term memory to locate images of all the Djinns she had seen in the last few minutes.

‘That one,’ Kit said, highlighting one of the images which came up. ‘He corresponds to none of the eight standard sculpts for the Djinn. We are not using any custom models.’

Fox insinuated herself into the crowd and began to slide through, dismissing all but the one Kit had spotted as she went. Whoever the guy was, he had picked a reasonable cover. The Djinns were, when it came down to it, android gigolos, just as the Sylphs were gynoid escorts. They were all designed to look handsome, or beautiful, and this was a good-looking man: blonde, shoulder-length hair pulled back into a professional ponytail, and blue eyes. Just as the androids were sculpted, so was this man. There had definitely been work done on his cheekbones and jaw, maybe the nose too.

As she slipped into a space on the edge of the crowd, Fox spotted Whitton and his guardian, and the fake android. The latter was holding a tray of drinks and smiling at the guests as they dropped off empties and picked up refills. He was taking his time, probably waiting for the right moment. Fox scanned his body, edge-enhancement software adding to the details. The man was built: muscles enough to go for a hand-to-hand kill, maybe, but she was betting on a weapon of some kind. There was not a lot of space to hide anything on that uniform…

Edge enhancement suggested something in the right-hand pocket of his slacks and switching in infrared showed a variation in heat there as something blocked the emissions from his thigh. It was something he was reaching for as he moved closer to Whitton, smiling all the way. The smile, Fox noted, had developed a smug edge.

‘Running facial recognition?’ Fox asked silently.

‘Yes, but these things take time,’ Kit replied. ‘I doubt we have time to waste.’

‘True.’

And then it happened. The man’s hand pushed into his pocket and, more or less in the same instant, the tray went flying. Glasses, full and empty, toppled as the silver tray flew straight at Whitton’s bodyguard. There was a clatter as the discus hit home, almost lost in the man’s scream of ‘Traitors must die! The revolution is here!’ The man’s hand came out of his pocket and he levelled a stubby, plastic device at Whitton: an electrolaser. Fox figured it was set to lethal, but that really did not matter since she was here, stepping out of the crowd and pushing the weapon up toward the ceiling before it could fire. ‘What?’ the man said, and then Fox’s fist slammed into his jaw. Once, twice, and his eyes rolled back before he crumpled to the, now wine-spattered, carpet.

‘What the Hell is going on?!’ Whitton roared just as soon as his brain was functioning again.

‘You’re welcome,’ Fox replied. She picked up the laser and examined it. ‘Cheap model,’ she commented, but she had been right: it was set to lethal mode. ‘Kit, call Blake Candler and let him know we’ve got an assassin here,’ Fox added silently.

‘At least this obviously falls into NIX’s remit,’ Kit said.

‘Well, very probably. Let me know when you have that identification.’

~~~

‘Nathaniel Costas,’ Kit said as Fox watched Blake Candler entering the terrace. The guests had been moved back into the main hall where the drinks were flowing even more freely. ‘Intelligence links him to a militia group from the Plattsburgh area.’

‘The kind of people who could’ve been heavily influenced by the various end-of-the-world memes,’ Fox replied. ‘Makes sense.’ Aloud she said, ‘Afternoon, Blake. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I have no issue with calling this one a national security issue.’

Candler grinned. ‘And I brought all my best arguments. Have you identified him?’

‘He belongs to a militia group. I’ll have Kit send you the details.’

The grin vanished. ‘Crap. The bomber in Detroit belonged to a militia unit out of Charlottesville.’

‘Not the same group. This is probably all part of Edwin Montcairn’s future war memeplex. You were briefed on that, I assume?’

Candler nodded. ‘I thought that would end with the Promised Land movement.’

‘Memes don’t just vanish, they fade. Some of them don’t even do that. This one has all the makings of something that could run and run.’

‘There’s always war coming, until it actually happens.’

‘Yes. Worse, if they lose, that wasn’t the right war.’

Sighing, Candler looked down at where medical robots were checking Costas and readying him for transport. ‘I guess, if we’re lucky, they’ll all end up in custody after pulling a stunt like this.’

‘Or they’ll blow themselves up,’ Fox said. ‘The Sisters of Corruption estimate around two hundred million adherents to the meme. MarTech suggested three hundred million. That’s worldwide.’

‘There have been bombings in Russia and China. We’re waiting on the first in Europe.’

‘Yeah. Whatever the actual numbers, there are a lot of people who could suddenly turn into mad bombers or suicidal assassins. This is going to be just like the early years of this century, the “War on Terror,” if we’re not careful.’

‘Huh,’ Candler grunted. ‘The last thing anyone wants is that.’

‘He actually seems to believe that,’ Kit commented silently.

‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ Fox said, possibly in answer to both of them.

~~~

‘Anything new?’ Fox asked as she swapped over with Sam at the door.

Sam shook his head. ‘Neiman’s still an asshole. Uh, Piper’s starting to look like she’s not sure why her boss is acting like an idiot. I was wondering, just a little bit, whether Neiman’s hamming it up a little more than usual.’

‘Panicking a little? Good.’

‘You think he might break?’

‘I think that if anyone’s going to, it’ll be him. Sherman Wayden will hide behind his father’s coattails. Well, have a good evening.’

Sam smiled. ‘I’d say the same, but it would be an empty wish. I’m taking Marie out for dinner tonight.’

‘Oh, yeah. Belle put the reservation in the calendar.’

‘Marie has bought a new dress. It’s just slightly on the legal side of decent.’

Fox returned the grin that came with the comment. ‘It’s nice to know she still feels the need to try.’

‘Yes it is. Gives me hope that this relationship is going to last.’

Something twisted inside Fox and her thoughts flashed to Naomi. ‘Good thing, you know, since she moved in with you and all.’

‘Uh-huh. See you in the morning.’ Sam headed off toward the waiting autocab and Fox turned, stepping into the building and locking the door behind her. She was not sure Sam was right about the morning; it felt like something was going to happen tonight.

24th January.

Fox walked through the silent house, multispectral vision at full stretch as she examined every part of its dark interior. Well, not entirely dark since the Moon was full and the blinds on the exterior windows were now open so that Fox could see out. To her, the night was as bright as the day, it just looked a little weird in a far broader spectrum than usual.

‘We have a report through on the nanodrug,’ Kit said.

‘Okay. What does it do?’

‘It’s… not nice, and probably a prototype.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘Details, Kit.’

‘The basic functionality is a suppression of critical thinking and decision-making functions in the brain. It directly attacks the cerebral tissues, turning the individual into, well, a robot. They’ll do what they’re told because they can’t decide to do anything on their own. However, it does not work as designed. Someone injected with the drug will be affected as intended for about a week. Then the secondary effects will begin to show. Essentially, the drug does not know when to stop.’

‘It eats their brains?’

‘Yes, Fox. All higher functions will be gone in around two weeks. After that it would be a matter of days, even hours, before the nanomachines damage autonomic functions sufficiently to result in asphyxiation or cardiac arrest. Their brains no longer know how to signal their hearts to keep beating or their lungs to keep breathing. Sleep dysfunctions and other random symptoms may occur, depending on how fast they die. BioTek are working on a counteragent… But the initial effects occur within twelve hours of injection.’

‘They could be saved, but the brain damage will be fixed by the time anyone knows to cure them. You know, this reminds me far too much of the Ghost Dolls.’

‘BioTek say there are a number of features of the nanomachines and their coding which indicate that Arvid Hummel is the originator. The code is distinctive.’

‘Bastard’s still working on the same damn… We found a case of this stuff in Burrage’s place, right? That makes me think he’s the source. I think Hummel is working out of the South African Federation.’

‘That would be my assessment too,’ Kit replied, ‘but the only lead we have on that front is dead. Without Mister Burrage, we have no way of knowing where he got the drug.’

‘No, you’re right, but it might be useful to–’

‘Fox, the security cameras on the seaward side of the building have been disabled.’

Fox slipped her pistol from behind her back and moved toward the central part of the building. ‘Finally.’

‘Shouldn’t we be checking that side of the house?’ Kit asked.

‘I’m betting she knows I’m here. That means she probably knows I’ll spot the cameras going out. Hence, possible distraction.’

‘Oh. You believe she can bypass the security system?’

‘Neiman’s? Yes, and without giving away her point of entry. My security system, possibly not. Quiet. I’m listening.’ There was sound, and it was coming from the side of the house which faced the sea. Maybe Lomax was not quite as clever as Fox thought.

Then Kit said, ‘I have her. She missed one of the cameras on the other side. She’s barely visible, but she’s definitely working on one of the windows.’

‘Then what…’ Kit was showing Fox the feed from the camera and there was definitely a body there, dressed in black and crouched down as she worked on one of the few windows which you could actually open. ‘Pool area. She’s trying to get in via the pool.’ The noise on the seaward side would have to wait; Fox set off for the pool room.

The house’s air conditioning was set to low heat for the night and the glass walls were not especially good insulation; the temperature had dropped to about ten degrees through most of the building. The pool room was another matter. The water had a significant thermal mass, keeping the temperature up close to twenty Celsius, and there was a mist hanging over the water to make the place look just a little spooky. Especially with a killer making her way in through one of the windows at the far end. Fox dropped into a crouch and shuffled forward, keeping to the shadows on one side of the pool. She stopped halfway down, her eyes on the thermal image of Lomax as the murderess slipped into the building. It was weird. It was almost as though Lomax didn’t know there was a guard on Neiman. So why take down the cameras on the other side…

Fox’s head snapped around just in time to see the assault rifle rising in the hands of a small, thin man who looked like he was made out of whipcord muscle. With her enhanced perception rate, she could take in the second man with him: big, thuggish but with a hint of precision which suggested intelligence. She had seen him before. Then the bullets were flying and Fox lurched to her right. Her shoulder slammed against the glass wall and alarm indicators flared: she was hit, badly. Glass shattered.

‘Get after her!’

One of the men, Fox was not sure which one. She turned and fired. Three rounds and more shattered glass. Her inputs had still not stabilised, her left arm was throwing nothing but errors, and she was off balance. The man who had shot her, the shorter one, raised his rifle, but Fox fired again, taking a little more time. Three rounds hit home, but blood burst out from only one of the wounds: he was wearing body armour and he was moving, dashing back the way he had come and out of sight.

Fox pushed herself up and checked both ends of the room in a glance. Lomax was gone and so was the bigger man. ‘Shit.’

‘Your frame is damaged,’ Kit said. ‘I suspect he has armour-piercing rounds loaded. This frame is not designed for combat.’

Glancing down at her arm, which was hanging limply at her side, Fox nodded. ‘Okay.’ She started for the bedroom. The shots had to have woken Piper if not Neiman. And they were, at least theoretically, the priority here. ‘Pull the images of those two thugs out of my memory and put out an urgent BOLO for them. Oh, and see if we can get facial recognition. The big one was the guy who followed me after I interviewed Burrage. Make sure the BOLO says “armed and dangerous.”’

‘I’m on it. I’m also contacting Miss Gadot. You’re going to need some serious maintenance.’

‘Yeah. At least Sonya isn’t going to complain I’m making her work unnecessarily.’

‘No, not this–’ Kit cut off as Fox rounded a corner to see a sleepy and very naked Piper stumbling toward Fox.

Piper rubbed her eyes and squinted. ‘Captain Meridian? What’s going on? I heard someone opening champagne.’

Fox stopped herself from laughing. ‘Where’s Mister Neiman, Piper?’

‘Oh, he’s still asleep. He could sleep through a hurricane.’ Piper’s eyes widened. ‘What happened to your arm?’

Maybe telling her about the gunfire was not the best idea right now. ‘It got damaged. I’m going to need–’

‘Wow! That must have been some champagne.’

~~~

Silas Rampton, Ramp to his friends, was a big man. It gave the impression that he should be slow, both physically and mentally, and he did his best to maintain that delusion in those he dealt with. The truth was that he could move very quickly when he needed to and his IQ was above average even if he had never done anything with it in an academic sense. His colleague, Andy Pons, was one of the few people who knew Ramp for what he was, which was why he had dispatched Ramp after the woman they had been hunting ever since Thomas Winsford’s death. Back then they had not known it was a woman, but it had not entirely surprised Ramp to discover that it was; society might still have a view of women as being less violent than men, but Ramp had done his time in the military and knew different.

He also knew a trap when he saw one.

He had followed the car his target was driving across most of Long Island, doing his best to avoid being spotted. Taking her off the road along the way was a risk he was unwilling to take: there were too many cameras plus the possibility of a random patrol spotting them. No, he aimed to follow her to her destination and take her down there. That was also a risk, but that risk shifted to physical danger rather than capture and exposure. Ramp was fairly confident that, whatever this woman had done, he was more than a match for her in a straight fight.

Then the car had driven into the Brooklyn Sprawl and the roads had got significantly more bumpy. Ramp was surprised the small, electric-powered hire car the woman was driving could cope with the terrain. The alcohol-fuelled SUV he was using was having no problems at all, but that little thing? Whatever, the target had to have somewhere secure to park her vehicle and somewhere close by to hole up. The Sprawl was a perfect place for her: even with the increased patrol rotations Palladium had instituted, it was still easy to hide in the Sprawl, if you were careful.

Ramp had turned a corner to follow the little compact and… It had been sitting there, in the middle of what had once been a street. The driver’s side door was open and the lights were on, and there was no sign of the woman Ramp was chasing. It all added up to a trap. Ramp brought his SUV to a halt and sat there, watching the compact, now lit even more brightly in the glow from his headlights. Nothing moved. The buildings around him were dark, not even home to the usual squatters, unless those were all asleep in their hovels.

No choice. He climbed out of the SUV, pistol in hand. Ramp favoured a fifteen-millimetre semi-automatic. American, not that South African crap Wayden had foisted on the police units. Caseless, of course, with electrothermal ignition. Expensive, sure, but worth it when he needed to be sure the target was going down. The problem here was visibility. Ramp pulled night-vision goggles from under the dash and lifted them to his eyes, not bothering with the strap. Where was she? Had she just cut and run? Unlikely. And the goggles were of limited use with all the car lights on.

Reaching back into his SUV, Ramp cut the engine and the lights with it. The lights on the compact were still bright enough to make the goggles dangerous. Look too far one way and he would be blinded briefly, and the contrast of light and dark, actually enhanced by the goggles, just made spotting one female form in the clutter harder. He moved carefully toward the target’s car, weapon raised and ready. It was just about possible that she could be hiding in the vehicle with a gun. Just about. Not exactly likely. The thing was so small a kitten might have had trouble concealing itself in there if it had to worry about a handgun too. He made it to the open door without getting shot, from inside or nearby. He glanced inside, getting a rough feel for the layout of the controls, then he dropped to one knee, his eyes on the buildings around him as he groped around for the light switch. There was an embarrassing moment when the windscreen wipers started going – how come that always seemed to happen when you were fiddling with controls you were not sure of? – and then the lights went out.

And then the car exploded.

~~~

If Fox had been entirely human, she would have probably been running on empty by now. Of course, if she had been human, she would be in a hospital hooked up to life support, or in surgery where they tried to save her arm, so the analogy was probably fairly weak. Still, it had been a Hell of a day and it was really not getting any better. Chances were it was just going to get longer.

‘I managed to identify him,’ Kit said as Fox looked down at the corpse of a big man. Or what was left of the corpse of a big man. He was mangled and partially burned, and his left arm was a few feet away from the rest of him, closer to the car. ‘His name is Silas Paulus Rampton. He was a staff sergeant in the Army before joining Wayden Executive Services eleven years ago.’

‘Huh,’ Fox responded and glanced back at the compact which was now less compact. The roof had been pushed upward, crumpling the sides inward, and the interior was a burned-out husk of its former glory. ‘Thermobaric grenade. My guess anyway.’

‘You’ve seen enough of them go off.’

‘Huh,’ Fox responded again. ‘So, she lured him to the car and blew it. I’d guess at a remote detonation. She was watching him from one of the buildings. Get a search team in to see whether they can find any evidence of her. But then she didn’t take his car, which either means she has another, or she has somewhere else near here to hole up in. Did you get an ID for the other guy?’

‘Andrew Pons. Also ex-military, but with the Rangers. He went to sniper school. He joined Wayden Executive Services at the same time as Mister Rampton. They both list addresses in Fargo as their current places of residence. Prior to that, they were registered in Detroit. The BOLO for Mister Pons is still active. No hits yet.’

‘Okay… We’ll go over the rest of this scene, but we’re going to get squat. Rampton’s probably too professional to leave anything incriminating in their car, and the one Lomax was driving isn’t going to give us anything useful. Lomax and Pons are on foot, so we may not see anything of them for a few hours. I think we’ve got enough evidence to try chasing Neiman for more. See if judicial liaison can get us a warrant to search Neiman’s place. Stress the link between him and Sherman Wayden, and the fact that two Wayden goons from Fargo have shown up here and shot a cop.’

‘I’m on it,’ Kit said.

‘Oh, and let Sam know he can stay in bed. Mister Neiman will be moving into tower three while someone puts his pool room back together.’

~~~

‘You can’t keep me here!’ Neiman shouted. It would have sounded more impressive if he was not dangerously close to squealing. ‘I need protection.’

‘You’re safer in this building than almost any other in the metro,’ Fox replied. They were in one of the VIP suites near the top of tower three and there was, in fact, very little chance that anyone could get near to Neiman without a serious assault force. Lomax might be good with security systems and computers, but not that good.

‘Under your protection? Your protection ain’t worth dick! That maniac would’ve–’

‘Been arrested, by me, hours ago, if I hadn’t been shot by two men employed by Wayden Executive Services who seemed fairly keen on making sure they put a permanent end to the suspect.’ To emphasise the point, Fox tapped her left hand with her right index finger. Her left arm was in a sling until she had the time to either swap bodies or get her arm fixed, and her hand hung limply from the plastic straps, completely useless currently. The large holes in her bicep were also quite visible, which did make a great visual aid. ‘Would you like to tell me why two men from Sherman Wayden’s police district are here in New York Metro, hunting down a killer? Or should I start telling you what I think?’

The anger backed off just a little too sharply. ‘I have no idea what they were doing there. They broke into my house while you were guarding it too.’

It was partially true. Fox was pretty sure that Neiman had not known Rampton and Pons were coming, but he had some idea why they were there. ‘You went to Fargo on a fact-finding tour to research policing methods for a “serious” production you’ve never gone ahead with.’

‘These things fall through all the time.’

‘I’m sure. Thing is, you and Sherman Wayden are the only survivors from that trip. Someone has decided the men who went on that tour have to die. Now, it just so happens that fourteen young women went missing in Fargo while your group was there. Two of them washed up on the shore of Lake Lida, where Wayden has a house.’

‘So? What does–’

‘The detective who was working those cases was murdered. Tortured and then killed. That was two weeks before Kent Killian was found staked to a tree having been raped with his good citizenship award prior to having his belly opened up like a fish. And now someone, probably someone high up, in Wayden Executive Services seems to have decided to eliminate this murderer rather than wait for due process. That someone wants her stopped before she can say anything to the police. Or the police in this metro anyway. They were willing to shoot a cop to achieve that.’

‘I have no id-dea about that. I need to get out of here. I’ll go to Detroit. Where there’s a competent police force.’

‘Sure? They shot me to keep Lomax away from me. Old Sherm is trying to keep this quiet, away from anyone who might discover his dirty secret. Do you really think he considers you a worthwhile risk? And Lomax knows I’m guarding you here. She knows she’s busted. She’s going to hit the next target on her list, who hasn’t accepted my protection. And you want to run right to where she’s going to go next?’

‘There’s no way she can get to–’

‘She got to Burrage,’ Fox countered. ‘Guy had pretty good security. Access to plenty of weapons. Do you want to know what she did to him? I can show you the crime scene photos. If you want to do a serious horror flick, they’re great material.’

Neiman turned his face from her. ‘He said he’d fixed everything,’ he muttered.

‘I have excellent hearing, Mister Neiman. Who? Sherman Wayden? He sent a couple of ex-military thugs to kill the killer. Think they would have left you alive after?’

‘He’s my friend,’ Neiman whispered. Then he turned to look at Fox. ‘You’re getting nothing from me. You’re supposed to be keeping me safe.’

‘And I have. And I have a warrant to search your house. And it would be a lot better for you if you came clean before I find anything.’

‘You can’t–’ He looked away again. ‘I’m saying nothing more without a lawyer present.’

‘Fine,’ Fox said, turning to leave. ‘Go down with the ship. Believe me, it’s holed below the waterline and I’m just going to rip that hole bigger.’

~~~

‘They fixed your arm then?’ Piper asked as Fox escorted her into Neiman’s house. The crime scene techs were still busy going through the place, but they were mostly occupied in the studio section currently, and both Neiman and Piper needed clothes. Fox had scared Neiman into staying in tower three while Piper packed.

‘No,’ Fox replied. ‘My cybernetics tech is working on that now. They say they’ll have to strip it back and reskin the whole thing when the arm’s been replaced, so it might be a day or two. I swapped into another cyberframe before we came out here.’

‘Oh. You can just do that?’ Piper was puzzling over a drawer filled with flimsy undergarments, trying to decide which of them to take with her. From what Fox could see, wearing any of them was roughly equivalent to wearing none of them, but it was Piper’s underwear drawer.

‘If the frame has a powerful enough computer. This is the frame I used to use all the time. It’s built for combat. If I’d been in this one last night, I probably wouldn’t have needed to get it fixed afterward.’

‘Why do you use the other one then?’

‘I don’t normally get shot by armour-piercing rounds and this one has a terrible battery lifetime.’

‘Oh.’ Piper picked up a lacy teddy, nodded, and dropped it into her case. ‘Is Davy under arrest?’

‘No. He’s scared to leave the tower in case the big bad bogeywoman comes for him, but he’s not under arrest.’ Fox let the air fall still for a second and then added, ‘Yet.’ The volume was calculated to be a mutter just about audible to Piper: an overheard personal aside.

‘What do you think he’s done, Captain Meridian?’ Fox had expected the blonde to be outraged, or anxious, probably not angry but more than the calm tone she was using.

‘Several women, young women, girls really, went missing from Fargo around the time Neiman was there with Sherman Wayden and Thomas Winsford.’ Piper shuddered, just a little, at the mention of Winsford’s name. ‘Two of them washed up on the shores of a lake. Dead. I don’t have a direct link, yet, between those missing girls and the deaths here in New York, but I think I’m getting closer. You don’t like Thomas Winsford, do you, Piper?’

‘No.’ The flat statement was something of a surprise too. Piper clearly had some assertiveness in her. ‘I went on a date with him once. For Davy. I got all dressed up to go out and stuff. Then we had a drink at his place and… I don’t remember much after that. I’m pretty dumb, Captain, but I know he dosed me with Cupie.’

‘You should have taken it to the police,’ Fox said, knowing that was probably something Piper had considered.

‘It was NAPA back then. I had no evidence. It would’ve been my word against his and you know what they were like about important people in Manhattan. And Winsford would’ve crushed me, a-and Davy.’

‘Neiman persuade you of that, did he?’

There was silence for a second or so, and then Piper pulled the underwear she had selected out of her case and dumped it back in the drawer before opening a lower drawer and taking out a lot of far more functional undergarments. ‘If I were you,’ she said, ‘I would be looking for the floor safe Davy has in his bedroom. I don’t know what Davy and the others did in Fargo, but Davy put some memory cards in the safe after he came back. He said his project needed to be kept really secure, so he wasn’t putting any of the documents on the company server.’

‘The safe in the bedroom is being worked on at the moment,’ Kit said into Fox’s mind. ‘We should have whatever is in it in the next thirty minutes.’

‘Keep me updated,’ Fox replied. Aloud, she said, ‘Thank you, Piper. We’ll look into that.’

‘Okay. Uh, Captain Meridian, could you get me a separate room from Davy? Maybe on a different floor?’

Fox barely managed to keep the smile off her face. ‘I think that can be arranged.’

~~~

‘What did you say to her?! She won’t even talk to me. What did you say?’ David Neiman was not a happy man. He was, in fact, an anxious, unhappy man, and that suited Fox just fine.

‘I told her about the missing girls in Fargo,’ Fox said. ‘Have to say, she didn’t seem really surprised.’

‘You had no–’

‘That was after she told me about you setting her up on a date with Thomas Winsford and then persuading her not to file rape charges.’

The anxiety was building, overriding what little righteous anger might have been in there. ‘He didn’t–’

‘She’s not as stupid as she seems, your Piper. Not from a well-off family, I’d imagine? Got into porn to get out of prostitution, maybe? She’s seen enough people on Cupie to recognise the symptoms, but I’d bet you knew Winsford couldn’t get it up without a few chemical aids, right? You knew what would happen to her when you made the arrangement.’

‘No, I–’

‘She told us about the safe in your bedroom. We’re loading the videos onto a server for inspection right now.’

‘Shit!’ Neiman jumped up and began to pace. Another good sign.

‘Yeah, shit is probably right. That’s a bad habit you’ve got, Neiman. Videoing everything is never a good idea, unless you’re a cop.’

He turned and looked at her, and the anxiety had taken complete control. His eyes were pleading. ‘I didn’t know what they were going to do! You have to believe me. I figured we’d have some fun. I even took a few girls out there to move things along. A little Cupie, maybe. Never hurt anyone. It’s just a little… fun.’

Fox supressed the urge to break Neiman’s jaw. ‘But?’

‘They had this drug. New stuff, Burrage said. Something some guy in South Africa cooked up. It… It made the girls really compliant, but…’

‘But it killed them,’ Fox said flatly. ‘Where did you think the extra girls came from?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

‘And where do you think they went after?’

‘I didn’t ask! Look, Sherm said he’d take care of them. They wouldn’t be a problem. I figured he’d bribe them. A-and Burrage was handing out his drug to us, but I didn’t want anything to do with it. What’s the point of a girl who’ll do anything you want when she only lives a few days? Huh?’

Fox stared at Neiman for a few seconds before getting to her feet. ‘David Harold Neiman, I am placing you under arrest on the charges–’

‘You can’t!’ Neiman yelled.

‘On the charges of conspiracy to commit rape, kidnapping, and murder. Further charges may be forthcoming. You have the right to remain silent and I suggest you take it because I am this close to beating you senseless. So, shut the fuck up! You have a right to an attorney, and you’re going to need one. If you can’t afford an attorney, an AI representative will be appointed for you. Anything you do decide to say can and will be used in court against you. If you decide to waive your right to an attorney, you can change your mind at any time, but I’m going to remind you that keeping your mouth shut right now is probably saving you from bruising.’ It was not exactly a standard Miranda reading, but it covered all the points as far as Fox could tell. ‘Do you understand your rights, and the fact that I will not invent new forms of police brutality if you keep your mouth shut, Mister Neiman?’

Neiman nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I understand.’

‘Good. Don’t leave the room. I’ll have a couple of officers up here shortly to escort you to a holding cell.’ Fox turned and headed for the door. Being in the same room as David Neiman was making her fists itch.

~~~

‘Several channels are reporting the arrest of Mister Neiman,’ Belle said as IB-62 displayed on a virtual screen beside her. Fox had the sound off, but there was a scrolling banner with ‘Breaking News’ reporting the same thing and someone had managed to find a picture of Neiman to display behind the presenter. ‘Most have made the link to the recent murders.’

‘Good,’ Fox replied. ‘That should give Sherman Wayden a scare. Kit, we’ll need a statement indicating that Neiman’s arrest is not directly linked to the deaths. It’s a “related case.” How are we doing with the videos?’

‘They have all been loaded and scanned for facial-recognition purposes,’ Kit replied. She was sitting beside Fox in their virtual lounge and she did not look especially happy. ‘We have identified all of Miss Lomax’s victims, except for Detective Guthrie, as well as David Neiman and Sherman Wayden. We also have all of the abductees in the videos.’

‘Have you watched any of them?’

‘Only one. The party at Mister Killian’s house a-and not all of it. I checked and Amelia Lomax was there with Molly Tailor. They both appear… robotic, zombified. The video also confirms that Miss Delvalle was given Cupie.’

‘Add another count of aggravated rape to the list,’ Fox muttered. ‘Okay… The next step is going to be a tough one. We need to persuade a judge to give us an arrest warrant for Sherman Wayden. That’s going to be…’

‘Politically loaded?’ Kit suggested. ‘Should I inform Miss Barrera?’

Fox nodded; MarTech’s head political analyst was going to need to know, but she was also likely to be a big help. ‘Yes. Uh, if Dia says she’d like to see the evidence, suggest that she would really be better off without.’

‘I will. You are going to watch it all, however.’ It was a statement rather than a question. Fox’s nod just confirmed it. ‘Then I shall be watching with you. There is no reason for you to go through it alone.’

‘Thanks, Kit,’ Fox said. ‘And I think we might lay on a bottle of virtual whiskey while we’re at it. We’ll need to watch it sober, but there’s no reason why we can’t get slammed after.’

~~~

‘I’m not going to say anything stupid,’ Fox said, ‘like, “I don’t understand how one person can do that to another.” I’m fully aware that people can be total shits to each other. But… Damn, Naomi, this is a bad one.’

Sitting on the sofa across from Fox, and still in her uniform, Naomi nodded. ‘So I’d gathered. We could all wish for a world where people followed Christian tenets, even if they are not Christians, but the world does not work that way.’

‘I know.’ Fox looked up and flashed a weak smile. ‘Thanks for seeing me so late. I needed… I’m not sure, but after watching that stuff I needed…’

‘Comfort?’ Naomi suggested.

‘Yes.’ Fox paused. ‘Maybe reassurance. It’s all about dominance. Well, not really. Not exactly. Not all of them. I’m… not sure what I’m getting at. It seemed like some of them needed to know they had control. Winsford and Wayden definitely, but I could see it in the others. Except, maybe, Neiman. I think he just enjoyed the extra kink. They wanted to dominate, to control. Or… Or they wanted submission. Complete submission. They were willing to do some pretty terrible things to get it.’

‘Some will.’

‘The… The games we’ve been playing. The DS games…’

Naomi sat back and crossed her long legs. Fox’s eyes flicked down at the action, an involuntary reaction. The woman was just so damn sexy! If Naomi noticed, she said nothing about it and her expression was serious. ‘Dominance and submission go together in the triad of BDSM because they must go together. A true DS relationship stems from the willingness of the sub to allow someone to dominate them. This relationship can fail on both sides. A submissive may seek control, constantly forcing the dominant to fight them. Not the playful testing of cuffs or ropes, but constantly testing the dominant’s resolve and wits. To be a submissive, one must want to be submissive to someone. Thomas Winsford, for example, never wanted real submission.’ She paused and sipped from her wine glass. ‘For those with dominant personalities, the balance is complex. They must be able and willing to fulfil the role and give their sub what is wanted. Pain, pleasure, humiliation, denial, release… Equally, they must accept submission, not demand it. The… The “game,” as you called it, might call for them to force their sub into submission, but it’s role play. The pushing of limits is a key factor in most DS relationships and, sometimes, the dominant must push their own limits to give their sub what they require. Men like Winsford and Wayden don’t understand that balance of wants and needs. They see only their own desires. They take submission because they don’t have the talent and skill to accept it.’

‘Kidnapping and drugs,’ Fox said. ‘Yeah. Taking what they want describes them perfectly.’

‘And what we do is far different from that. DS is a matter of trust. Mutual trust. I trust you, Fox, and I always ask whether you trust me. In truth, I already know the answer, but I ask anyway. Usually I know already. I don’t know the details of what you watched earlier, but I sense that it caused you distress and uncertainty. Do you trust me, Fox?’

Fox looked into Naomi’s clear, blue eyes. ‘Yes. Always.’

Naomi smiled. ‘Good. Take off your clothes.’

Getting to her feet, Fox began to strip. Naomi had just said to take her clothes off, but making a show of it seemed appropriate. She peeled away her jacket and shimmied out of her jeans. She had to sit down to take off her boots; it was not exactly the sexiest striptease in the world, but Naomi smiled and seemed to be enjoying the show as Fox’s body was revealed.

Then Naomi got to her feet and started for the door, leaving Fox to briefly wonder what was going on. ‘Come,’ Naomi said. ‘I’ll take you to the bondage suite in the brothel. It’s free at the moment.’

‘You want me to walk over to the brothel like this?’

Naomi turned a stony face on Fox. Her blue eyes were hard, brooking no argument. ‘Come. Head high, chest out. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’ When Fox did not instantly start to move, Naomi added, ‘Don’t make me get the collar and leash.’

Fox stepped forward, lifting her chin. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

25th January.

‘I would like to further protest my client’s treatment during his arrest. He is suffering from extreme physical stress following–’

Fox fixed her eyes on the lawyer and he cut himself off. His name was Artemius Slocomb and he worked for Wayden Executive Services, and the fact that he did indicated that Sherman Wayden was probably panicking. ‘Your client resisted arrest,’ Fox said. ‘Stupidly. Violently. He had to be stunned to ensure that other users of the airport were not harmed. He has been checked out by medical professionals and, aside from the bruise he sustained when he hit the ground, he’s fit to be interrogated.’

Sitting across the table from Fox, his wrists locked into cuffs which were looped through a metal ring on the table, Andrew Pons glared at Fox. The effect was diminished by the bruise across the right side of his face, which had partially closed his eye. He looked lopsided. However, the bruising had been caused by the impact of head and security barrier, and the event was all on camera. Pons glared, but said nothing: he had asserted his right to silence and he was sticking to it.

‘There is no need for my client to be chained–’

‘Please see above comments regarding resisting arrest,’ Fox snapped. ‘Would your client like to make any further comment regarding the shooting of a police officer which occurred yesterday morning at approximately zero three thirty?’

‘My client was nowhere near the house of David Neiman where this shooting took place and has never been to that house. We have nothing to say regarding this matter.’

‘Then it’s just me. Fine.’ Fox turned to a screen mounted high on the wall to her left. It sprang to life and started playing video of the pool room. The shape of Patricia Lomax in infrared could be seen right up until the point where Fox had turned and seen the two men. The video froze and boxes appeared around the rifle and the two faces. Identification panels appeared beside each box. The one beside the rifleman said he had been identified as Andrew Pons.

‘Captured memory evidence from a witness is inadmissible in court,’ Slocomb said, dismissing the video with a wave. ‘This was established in–’

‘Caravine versus New York, twenty forty-six,’ Fox interrupted. ‘It’s an outdated ruling based upon a lack of understanding of the technology, but it’s also irrelevant. The following year, Donaldson versus New England made it legal to utilise video evidence captured by an AI-driven cyberframe. The argument was that the frame records directly to memory, bypassing any human alteration of the memory during perception. That is video, and audio by the way, captured by a cyberframe. It’s placed into local memory as it’s passed to my brain emulation. This is unprocessed visual imagery and it is admissible.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

Fox smiled. ‘I guess we will. So, your client is looking at trespassing, aggravated assault, attempt to commit murder, kidnapping, conspiracy to commit rape, conspiracy to–’

‘What are you talking about?’ Slocomb said, frowning in the manner lawyers employed to make sure you knew they thought you were an idiot. ‘Even if you can get that video into court, which I doubt, there’s nothing here to go higher than assault.’

‘Aggravated assault. He shot a cop.’ Fox held up her hand to forestall the next statement. ‘He knew I was a cop, because his buddy, Mister Rampton, has been following me for days. I have fully admissible video evidence of that too. The rest of the charges come from the videos we obtained during the search of David Neiman’s house.’ Fox turned her gaze on Pons. ‘Neiman just couldn’t leave that camera of his at home. He took video of all sorts of stuff. That includes you and Rampton carrying girls around, holding them while they were injected with drugs. Of course, you didn’t get to play with them, at least not that we can see, but you conspired to allow all the other stuff Neiman documented for us.’ Her eyes snapped back to Slocomb. ‘I spent a lot of time last night going through as much of it as I could, so I can tell you that I am super-motivated to see your client put away for the rest of his natural life. Hell, I might pay to have it extended so he can enjoy Cold Harbour for longer.’

‘My client has nothing–’ Slocomb began.

‘You’ve got the videos that porn prick was shooting?’ Pons asked, cutting the lawyer off.

‘Mister Pons,’ Slocomb said, trying again.

The video on the screen changed. There was sound with the clip Fox had cued up and it cut through the air like a knife. Screaming. A girl screaming as she fought against strong hands to get away from a needle. The screaming began to die within a few seconds, but the hands held her for longer. Sherman Wayden’s voice cut in though he was not visible on the screen, yet. ‘She’s ready. You can let her go, Pons.’

Fox froze the playback. ‘Voice identification gives us Sherman Grant Wayden as the speaker, but we have him visible in other scenes. Very visible. That birthmark on his ass is quite distinctive, for example. He’s not going to be any use to you, Pons. Mister Slocomb here is going to be running away in the next few minutes to try to fight the warrant I’m busy getting to arrest your boss, and I’m willing to bet he’ll throw you to the wolves as soon as I get him in an interview room.’

‘Now just a–’ Slocomb began, but it was his day for never finishing a sentence.

‘Get out,’ Pons snapped at his lawyer. ‘You’re fired.’

‘Mister Pons, I don’t–’

‘Get out!’ It took Slocomb several minutes to gather his tablet and put it in a briefcase. It took far more time than was reasonable, but Fox sat back and watched as the lawyer tried to persuade Pons to change his mind. Pons, it seemed, was not a stupid man; he knew Slocomb’s job was to stop Pons testifying against Wayden, and he also knew that Fox was going to crucify the lot of them, no matter what the lawyer said. ‘Here’s the deal,’ Pons said once Slocomb was out of the room, ‘I admit to trespassing and assault, even aggravated assault, and you drop the other stuff. I give you everything I know about Fargo.’

Fox pulled in a long breath through her nose; there was no reason to do so, but it gave the right impression. He knew she had him on pretty much every charge she had listed, and could guess she had his boss on worse. She raised an eyebrow at him, saying nothing.

‘I can tell you how they got the Fargo operation through that audit,’ Pons added. ‘I know who was in on it. I was there when Wayden met with Meier, the audit guy. He’s got way more subtle ways of controlling them.’

‘Sherman Wayden?’

‘Of course,’ Pons said while giving the best shrug he could given his restraints. ‘Daddy Wayden is ambitious and ruthless, but he’s not stupid enough to openly bribe a NAPA official.’

Fox smiled. ‘Kit, you might want to start proceedings for an official complaint to NAPA.’ Aloud, she said, ‘Alright, Mister Pons, assuming that what you tell me checks out, I think we can probably make a deal. You understand that we have to go through NAPA Judicial to confirm it?’ He nodded. ‘Good, but since all but the charges we don’t want to stick happened in a jurisdiction which is just about to collapse, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.’

~~~

Senior Judge Celia Lamont materialised in the apartment viron with a frown on her face. It was not an unexpected expression and, in this case, it was not actually a bad sign. Fox had dumped a real nest of vipers on NAPA’s judicial wing and it was unsurprising that one of the most senior judges in the metro would be dealing with it, and that she would be unhappy about it.

‘What have you got me into, Fox?’ Lamont asked. She had never been one for small talk. She settled onto a sofa, sitting primly with her back straight, knees together, and her hands folded into her lap. Lamont was an attractive woman who was allowing her sixty-seven years to show where it enhanced and not where it did not. Her hair, long enough to reach past her shoulders and worn down today, was the kind of silver-white you got in movies and it was all natural. She had never felt the need to enhance any of her physical features, but she did have her wrinkles smoothed out: a few crow’s feet and soft laughter lines were the only indications that she was aging. Her eyes were greyer now rather than the bluer colour you could see in early photographs of her, but they were just as hard and sharp as ever.

‘Sorry,’ Fox replied, ‘but we’ve got plenty of evidence, all obtained legitimately with a paper trail you can’t fault. The testimony from Pons is just wax on the seal.’

‘You have video evidence of these… crimes in Fargo?’

‘Yes. Neiman recorded just about everything. You can review it if you want, Celia, but… Well, let’s just say I wish I hadn’t needed to.’

‘The media are going to have a field day with this. Palladium arresting the son of their main competitor? Your memetics department are going to be running around like rabid dogs.’

‘Our problem. They’ve been informed. Apparently, they already had the shell of a campaign ready for this. They weren’t expecting to need it, exactly. They just figured it was something they should be ready to cover if it happened. They weren’t expecting to need it so soon, or that it would involve someone this high up in Wayden, and they weren’t expecting the other thing either…’

Lamont sighed. ‘You’re sure you have enough to arrest Meier? This is going to be a total PR disaster. Corruption in the audit teams and detected so early in the process. Anyone who’s had a negative review is going to be screaming it was fixed, and we’ll probably have to audit all of the audits we’ve done… You’re sure?’

Fox nodded. ‘Again, Pons has given us names and dates, but the financial history we dug up on Meier is suspicious. Our forensic AIs are sure they can find a lot more with a warrant to pursue things. It’s not all bad. This was a deal between Meier and Sherman Wayden. There’s no indication Wayden Executive Services was involved and every indication that Norton Wayden knew nothing about it. It’s not his style. I’ve got suspicions about how Wayden does business, but I think he’ll influence the audits through political pressure, not by bribing the officials.’

‘Yes… I didn’t hear that, but yes. Norton has strong backing among a lot of the more conservative vote brokers. He has influence. Though, that influence is going to take a hit when it comes out that his son is a multiple rapist and murderer. What on Earth prompted them to do this?! I thought I was a cynical old woman, Fox, but I truly fail to see how they thought this was in any way a good idea. How did they expect to get away with it?’

Fox gave a shrug. ‘I talked to Naomi Lind about it. In vague terms, obviously. The psychology of dominance and submission. It’s complicated, but it comes down to dominance. Well, Neiman was just in it for the kink, and he couldn’t stomach some of it. He’s just an idiot who got carried along with the others. But men like Thomas Winsford? They grew up believing they had all the power in the world and women were there to do whatever they wanted. Standard misogyny amped up to eleven. They weren’t going to get caught because it was unthinkable that they could get caught. Important people, powerful people, don’t get caught. That simple.’

‘I’ve dealt with that attitude my entire life, Fox,’ Lamont replied, ‘but this… I thought this kind of thing had, at least, been relegated to the insides of men’s minds.’

Another shrug. ‘Power corrupts?’

Lamont sighed deeply and then looked up, her expression hardening. ‘You’ll get your warrants. See to it that these people do not escape what they deserve.’

‘Oh, I plan to.’

Detroit–Chicago Metro.

Palladium had contracts in Detroit, which meant they had an office and, given that this was Detroit, they had vehicles suitable for transporting prisoners. One of them had met Fox at the airport and she drove it to the Wayden arcology with the vehicle’s sensor array watching for any sign of problems. She was not expecting resistance, but not keeping an eye out for it would have been plain stupid.

The warrant details had been sent ahead, so Wayden knew what was coming. There had been no response, but the building acknowledged Fox’s arrival and gave an assigned parking space near to the reception area. An android identical to the one she had spoken to on her last visit, though not returning the same ID, smiled as Fox walked up to the desk.

‘Captain Meridian. How can I help you?’

Fox stared at the machine for a second. ‘I think you know the answer to that already.’

‘Mister Wayden is not in this building at this time.’

‘Where is he?’

‘I have not been supplied with that information.’

‘Would you like me to supply you with an arrest for obstruction of justice?’

There was a pause and then the android said, ‘Please proceed to the elevators. Major Wayden will see you.’

The elder Wayden wanted to talk? Okay. ‘Thank you,’ Fox said and turned toward the bank of elevators.

‘The receptionist would not lie to a police officer,’ Kit said. ‘Sherman Wayden is not here.’

‘Isn’t a lie if it’s the only information available. He may have decided to run. He probably heard about the warrant before we sent it out. I’d imagine this place has ears in the judiciary. We do. Let’s see what Major Wayden has to say.’

The elevator went up past the floor they had stopped at last time and Fox reached behind her back, putting her hand on the butt of her gun. There was the possibility that Norton Wayden meant to handle the situation in a direct manner; he had a reputation for directness. On the other hand, he was not stupid. Plenty of people knew Fox was there to serve an arrest warrant. On the other other hand, the warrant was for Major Wayden’s son…

Fox stepped out into an empty lobby area as soon as the doors opened. It was set up for people to wait with three doors off it. One of those was labelled as a restroom. Fox figured one led to an office, perhaps belonging to Wayden’s PA. With no direction presented as obvious, Fox headed for the door straight ahead of her; it was a little more ornate and suggested that there were private rooms beyond. She was not wrong: a second later, she was stepping into a large lounge with a fake fire, massive entertainment screen, comfortable sofas, and Major Norton Wayden, sitting near the fire with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. The liquid circled smoothly as Wayden moved his hand and watched the wave progress.

‘Major,’ Fox said when the man failed to speak. ‘My name is–’

‘I know who you are. General Graves’s favourite cop, come to arrest the son of his greatest competitor. You haven’t managed to take full control of the policing system by legitimate means so–’

‘I don’t want control of law enforcement. That’s your bag. Your strategy was terrible and you should never have put your son in charge of anywhere. An hour ago, my team in Topeka and a squad from NAPA arrested Alan Meier on corruption charges. Your son paid him to give the operation in Fargo a clean bill of health.’ Fox moved closer, her hand moving away from her pistol. ‘Judging from Meier’s financials, Sherman was paying him to give the Topeka Watch a hard time, probably to fail the audit. If that happened, would Sherman be taking over in Topeka too?’

Wayden did not look up, but his brows furrowed briefly. ‘So, you come up with this trumped-up–’

‘It’s all solid evidence. Witness testimony. Video evidence. Would you like to see any of it, Major? I can show you video of your son banging away at a woman so hyped up on Cupie she would hump a donkey. I can show you your son injecting the stuff into her and then watching while the drug takes hold. Do you know what that stuff does to people? Have you ever seen it? It’s perfect for a man like Sherman, or like Winsford. She’s begging for it. Her mind, what’s left of it, can only focus on one thing. She’s hot, restless. She feels so empty that nothing can fill the hole, but she’s going to try. She’ll try anything to get off, and when she does, all she wants is more. Fourteen girls. All those families who don’t know where their daughters vanished to, except for the one who got a body to bury, and the sister who wants your son dead because he raped and murdered a girl who had seen far too much tragedy in her life already. She’s still after him, Major. I need to get to him before she does.’

There was silence. The whiskey stopped moving in the glass; the wave on its surface ground to a sluggish halt. Wayden emptied the tumbler. ‘She won’t get to him. He went to Fargo before your warrant came through. He’ll be at his house by now and there’s no way she’s getting to him there.’

‘Thank you. I’ll go to Fargo.’ Fox turned and then paused, looking back over her shoulder. ‘Don’t underestimate this woman. She’s ex-NAPA. Computer crime and security specialist. Trained with weapons. She would probably like to make your son’s death long and painful, but I think she’ll settle for dead. And she has nothing to lose now. I don’t think she’d mind dying, so long as she takes Sherman with her.’

Fox was almost at the door when Wayden spoke again. ‘Whatever he’s done, Captain Meridian, he’s still my son.’

‘Tell me that again when you’ve seen the evidence,’ Fox said, and then walked out.

Fargo Agri-Zone.

‘Captain Meridian,’ Pythia said as Fox piloted the vertol in toward a landing, ‘I am detecting multiple persons and vehicles near the exit gate of the airfield. One of the vehicles appears to be an armoured personnel carrier.’

Fox flicked up the imagery Pythia had captured and frowned. ‘It’s a mobile command and control unit,’ she said. ‘An armed one.’ The boxy, armoured vehicle was big, with wheels taller than Fox was, twin rotary cannons in a turret, and a large array of antennae. It was not the kind of thing police forces really needed to have available, though excuses could be made. There were at least four sedans blocking the exit from the airfield alongside the APC. ‘Can you identify any of the people?’

‘Not at this range.’

‘Okay. Kit, how’s our backup?’

‘Five minutes behind us,’ Kit responded. ‘I did not really think that would be necessary. Mister Wayden has surprised me.’

‘I’m not sure this is to do with Wayden. Personally. If the locals have heard why I’m here… Well, I don’t think Wayden’s going to go down alone.’

‘This is insane.’

Fox smiled. ‘Yeah, kind of, but they already tried to scare me off once. They’re running out of viable options here.’ The wheels of the vertol touched down and Fox began working through the shutdown procedure. ‘We’ll go talk to them and see what they’ve got in mind.’

~~~

‘Hello, boys. You’re blocking the gate. I’d really appreciate it if you moved.’ Fox sat on her Q-bug and waited, even if she was not expecting a reply which involved letting her through.

The plan in Fargo was different from the one in Detroit. There would be no reasonable way to transport Sherman Wayden from his house to the airfield, so Fox was aiming to ensure it was safe and then Pythia would bring the vertol out to Lake Lida. Of course, she had to get to Lake Lida to do that.

‘We know why you’re here, Meridian,’ a voice called out. Fox localised the sound and tracked it to a man standing behind one of the cruisers. He was resting his arms on the hood of the car and holding a pistol aimed at Fox’s chest.

‘Edmond Ross,’ Kit supplied. ‘He’s an inspector. His name is on the majority of the narcotics busts made since Wayden took over here.’

‘You’ve got some trumped-up charge against Sherman Wayden,’ Ross continued. ‘We all know this is illegal. You’re just trying to get rid of a competitor. We’re taking you into custody on charges of corruption.’

Fox smiled and transmitted the warrant data on broadcast. ‘I am here to serve a legitimate arrest warrant for Sherman Wayden. The charges are multiple counts of rape, multiple counts of conspiracy to commit rape, two counts of conspiracy to commit murder, bribery of a government official, and probably a few other things we’ll figure out later. Any of you who stand in my way will be charged with obstruction of justice. Move it, or lose it, gentlemen. Oh, and ladies. Sorry, didn’t see you standing at the back.’

There was some muttering among the uniforms, followed by several of them turning and walking away from the barricade. Two of those were women, but they had probably all bothered to read the warrant details.

‘Stand your ground, officers,’ Ross shouted. ‘She’s got nothing to–’

‘I have witness testimony and video recordings,’ Fox interrupted. She stepped off her bug and took a step forward. The other change she had made on the flight to Fargo was to get into a combat suit. She had an assault rifle slung across her back, but she made no move to unsling it. ‘I have plenty to see to it that your boss goes away for a very long time. You don’t want to side with him on this.’ Her eyes sought out Ross. ‘But I’m guessing this isn’t really about him, is it, Inspector Ross?’ Ross’s hands tightened around his weapon. ‘This is about all those drug busts you set up and how a real NAPA audit team would find that very few of them are legitimate. Alan Meier was arrested this afternoon. NAPA are going to have to make an example of him and I doubt he’s going to go down alone.’

Now Ross’s jaw tightened. ‘The subject is resisting arrest,’ he called out. About half of his remaining men took aim and the turret on the APC turned to bring its twin guns to bear. ‘You have ten seconds to comply,’ Ross added, ignoring the fact that people were walking away from the blockade. There were plenty left to take down one woman.

Fox smiled and shook her head. ‘Did you really think I’d come here without some backup, Inspector?’

There was a sound, something like what you would get if you combined ripping cloth with a high-pitched shriek. Light flared as something flew out of the sky and slammed into the APC. The missile punched through the side armour and exploded. The shielded windows at the front burst outward and flames leaped out through the shattered glass and the hole the missile had created. There were loud cries and shrieks from the assembled cops, but only Ross thought to do anything: he fired at Fox. A jacketed round hit her chest and flattened against her suit.

Fox raised her pistol and fired, and Ross’s head exploded into red mist. ‘Would anyone else like to shoot at me? Because I can do this all night.’ There was the clatter of weapons being dropped onto cars and the ground. No one decided that firing was a good idea. ‘Right. Get those damn cars out of my way.’

As she swung her leg back over the Q-bug, Fox spoke silently to Kit. ‘Have you got names for the people who backed Ross up?’

‘Most of them. They did not turn off their implants, or I have facial data.’

‘Good. We’re going to leave it up to NAPA to decide what to do with them, but I want them put on watch lists for all Palladium-secured buildings.’

‘Cleaning this up is going to be a really thankless task, isn’t it?’

As a gap formed in the barricade of cars, Fox started the Q-bug forward, dodging around the burning APC. ‘No one ever really likes it when you point out how badly they screwed up. Wayden will be hit hard, even if they’re squeaky clean everywhere else. NAPA is going to have an entire farm’s worth of egg on their faces. Yes, it’s going to be messy.’

‘No good deed ever goes unpunished?’

‘Yeah, I think that pretty much covers it.’

~~~

‘House’ was not an especially valid term for what Sherman Wayden had built on the shore of Lake Lida. It was more of a compound with high walls around the perimeter, several acres of land inside the walls, and then the ranch-style building within. That had housing for around twenty people, including a ten-bunk dormitory for a security force, an armoury which had been stocked with any number of weapons NAPA would have considered questionable at best, a garage capable of housing three APCs as well as a few cars, and that was before you got to the more mundane rooms such as the pool, the sauna, the lounge big enough to host a large party…

The main security room followed Wayden Executive Services’ preferred design for an arcology monitoring suite. Almost everything was virtual, aside from the five chairs the operators sat on. Sherman Wayden surveyed the banks of virtual screens showing various locations around the compound and nodded.

‘We know she’s on her way,’ he said, ‘but she’s not getting in here without us seeing her.’

A couple of the operators glanced at each other and one of them, the bravest or the one who had drawn the short straw, spoke up. ‘Sir, we know she has a valid arrest warrant. Wouldn’t it be better to–’

‘I am not handing myself over to that cybernetic bitch!’ Wayden snapped. ‘Sending her to bring me in is a fucking insult!’

‘Yes, sir.’ The operators were well aware of their boss’s attitude to women. Some of them even agreed with it, but there was every indication that the man was losing his marbles really fast at the moment. There was no way this was going to end well for any of them. Then again, a good outcome was probably going to be pretty unlikely whatever happened. They had already come up with their story, should they end up in custody over this: no one had told them about the warrant and they were defending the property like they were supposed to. Well, it might hold up…

Then all the lights cut out. The displays vanished along with the virtual control panels. There was a pause of a few seconds and then things began to return to life. Lights came first, then a display showing that the security system was coming back online.

‘What happened?’ Wayden asked.

‘If you’ll give me a second, sir… We’ve lost the main power line into the compound. Communications too.’ He paused as his keyboard reappeared and he typed rapidly. ‘Looks like the lines were cut about a kilometre out.’

‘Meridian?’

‘No, sir. We still have a drone monitoring her and she’s at least twenty-five minutes away.’

‘It’s the other woman. Lomax.’ Meridian was one thing: Meridian was honour-bound to bring him in alive, if possible. Lomax was here for just one thing. ‘Get everyone on alert. She could arrive any minute and I want her stopped. Is that clear?’

‘Of course, sir. That’s what we’re here for.’

~~~

‘High altitude surveillance is reporting two small explosions about a kilometre from Mister Wayden’s house,’ Kit reported.

Fox slowed the Q-bug a little and examined the map display where Kit had highlighted the detonation points. ‘Power and communications pylons?’

‘The locations correspond to power and communications lines, yes.’

‘Lomax is ahead of us. I don’t know how she got here first. Maybe she figured Wayden would run here while I went for him hiding behind daddy. Whatever, she’s here.’ Flicking her attention back to the road, Fox drove the power on the little bug’s motors up to full. ‘We need to get there fast. Preferably before too many people end up dead.’

‘If you’re right about Mister Wayden’s reaction to you attempting to arrest him, I would imagine that the casualty count is going to be high anyway.’

Fox decided not to correct the impression.

~~~

Alarms began to sound and displays switched viewpoint automatically to show the explosions still dying away along the lake-side perimeter. ‘What is it?!’ Wayden shrieked. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Detonations at three locations along the wall,’ one of the operators said. ‘Sensors are down in those locations, but we still have visual coverage from cameras further in. No sign of an intruder at this point.’

‘I want men out covering those locations. Now!’

‘Sir, if–’

‘Now!’

‘Yes, sir.’

~~~

Patricia Lomax watched as the five-man guard on the main gate became a two-man guard. She smiled. This was not going to go down the way she had hoped, but it would happen and Sherman Wayden would die. Pat was absolutely clear on that; her old martial arts instructor had told her once that attitude was everything, that she should visualise her goal and see herself achieving it before she started. Well, she could see herself executing Wayden tonight.

She did not think of what she did as murder: she was enacting justice. Long ago, Pat had concluded that men like Thomas Winsford and Sherman Wayden never got what they deserved. While she was a cop, she had railed at the injustice of the system which let rich men walk free, but there had been nothing she could do about it. Now, those rich men were in an even better position to call the shots where law enforcement was concerned. With Wayden and Palladium basically running the police, there was no way the men who had killed her sister would be punished. But now Pat was not a cop, and she was free do whatever needed doing.

What needed doing right now was the pitching of a stun grenade into the security post at the gate. That was followed by two streams from an electrolaser. The guards were idiots who probably had done something to deserve death, but Pat had no evidence of their crimes and was not going to kill them. She had, she figured, five minutes before anyone figured out that the bombs were a distraction. Drugging the two guards would keep them silent while she used those five minutes to get to the house.

Patricia Lomax started running. Her quarry was almost in sight.

~~~

‘We’ve lost contact with the main gate.’

Wayden’s head snapped around fast enough to cause actual pain. ‘What do you mean?’

The operator kept the look of disgust off his face: what the Hell did the idiot think that meant? One of the displays switched to a view of the main gate. ‘Can’t see our guys there. They should be in the booth. They aren’t responding to calls.’

Wayden’s jaw worked for a second. ‘The bombs were a distraction. Get those men back from the wall. Alert the ones at the house.’ Reaching to his hip, he lifted a pistol from its holster. It was a fully automatic machine pistol, a rapid-fire weapon with a long magazine full of ten-millimetre, hollow-point bullets. Wayden liked to say that he enjoyed the firepower of an automatic weapon, but everyone knew that the truth was that he could barely hit the side of a barn unless he could spray lead in the right direction. He worked the action. ‘Let the bitch come,’ he said, but it was noticeable that he did not leave the safety of the reinforced security room.

~~~

Glass exploded as Pat fired a shotgun round into one of the larger windows on the north side of the building. Yes, she had no desire to execute the guards, but there were limits. Plus there was Wayden, somewhere in this building, and she was not going to use an electrolaser on him, even one set for a lethal charge. If she got the chance, she was going to ram the muzzle of her shotgun right up–

Bullets sliced through the air as she stepped in through the window. None hit her and she returned fire: a three-round burst from the combat shotgun which tore apart the wooden doorframe ahead of her and caused the guard to jump back. Pat bolted for the door on her right, pushing through into what looked like an office. There was a heavy wooden desk set under a window, a cabinet against one of the walls, and another door on her left which, she figured, led into the house.

‘We’ve got her,’ someone yelled from the room she had come from. ‘There’s no way out of there we don’t have covered.’

Shit! Pat pulled a grenade from her harness and tossed it over her shoulder as she headed for the cover of the desk. If anyone said anything else, she did not hear it: her hearing went dead with the explosion that pulverised the room. She brought her head up over the desk in time to see the second door burst open and the man framed in it. He was carrying an assault rifle.

Pat jerked her shotgun up and fired a stream of heavy, leaden slugs into the doorway and the man standing in it. There was a scream, barely heard over the ringing in her ears, and then the bullets started coming back.

~~~

Fox pulled her Q-bug up at the gate and scanned around for any signs of life. She found it in the security box on one side, but the two vaguely humanoid heat sources were horizontal and unmoving. It took her a few seconds to check on them – both unconscious, but alive – and the fact that they looked like they had been drugged confirmed what she had feared.

‘Yup, Lomax beat us here.’

‘Perhaps,’ Kit replied, ‘but I suspect she will have some difficulty in getting to Mister Wayden. These men are unlikely to be the only guards. There is an APC with a weapons turret parked outside the front door of the house.’

‘Okay, tell the strike frame to put some warning shots in the ground in front of the APC. If that doesn’t get it to move or get it evacuated, it’s to be considered hostile.’

‘Orders sent. Are we going in on foot?’

Fox stepped out of the booth and looked out toward the house about half a kilometre away. She was just in time to see light flare as the APC’s turret opened fire, aiming at something in the sky it was pretty unlikely to hit. ‘I guess that takes care of the hostile tag.’ She waited for the impact of twin missiles before starting to run toward the destroyed vehicle. ‘It’ll only take a minute or so to get there.’ She shifted her rifle so that it was slung over her chest as she ran and checked the load in the micromissile launcher. ‘Hopefully, I won’t need the thermobaric warheads this time.’

‘You just like using them,’ Kit countered.

‘Well, yes, but there’s a time and a place.’

The sound of gunfire could be heard before Fox even made it to the house. The muffling and echoes suggested that it was coming from the far side, but it would take too long to go around; Fox put several rounds from her rifle into the door and then kicked it open. She was transmitting the warrant data as she did so, and she yelled ‘Police! Put down your weapons!’ as she stepped inside. There was one man in the foyer, and he raised his rifle as soon as he saw her. Fox fired first, peppering the man with needle-thin projectiles driven at enormous speed. His body armour was almost useless against the magnetically driven bullets and he fell, coughing blood as he hit the tiled floor.

‘Good start,’ Fox commented.

‘I doubt it’s going to get better,’ Kit replied.

The building shook.

~~~

Pat noted the arrival of data indicating that Captain Tara Meridian was there to serve an arrest warrant for Sherman Grant Wayden. It had come in just as she was throwing a grenade, and it took a second or two to figure out what it was saying because of the detonation shockwave and the ringing sounds. It made no difference. Okay, so Meridian wanted to arrest Wayden. There was no way she would get a conviction.

Head starting to throb from the repeated nearby explosions, Pat vaulted the table and ran out, dodging past the charred, malformed bodies her grenade had created and running for the core of the building. That was where she would find Wayden; there was no way he would be anywhere apart from the secured, windowless room where his security personnel worked and he could hole up in safety. Or so he thought. She had done her research, suspecting that she would end up having to mount a raid on Wayden’s stronghold by the time she got to him. She had managed to find out exactly what kind of security systems he had had installed. She knew the flaws, and the probable shortcuts, though she had not expected to need to exploit them quite so urgently. She had not expected…

How had Meridian got to the point of hunting down Wayden so quickly? Why did she have to turn up now? Of course, Pat had heard of the woman. She was constantly in the news for one reason or another. She had been turned into some sort of robot. She had closed some very high-profile cases in the last few years. She had managed to get Harper August tried and convicted… Could she do the same with Wayden?

No. August was one thing, but there would be far more politics in the lead investigator for Palladium arresting the son of the Chairman of Wayden Executive Services. No, this had to end tonight. Sherman Wayden had to die tonight.

Pat fixed a small explosive charge over a panel bolted to the wall near the door of the security room, set the timer, and stepped back. This was the messy way in, but it was quick. She readied her shotgun, flicking the selector to full auto and shouldering it. The charge blew: there was a flare of light as the shaped explosion burned into the circuitry hidden behind the panel. Lights over the door began to flash red and the door, a heavy reinforced steel affair, hinged back toward her. All she needed was one, clear shot…

Bullets sprayed out through the gap before the door was fully open, one of them hitting Pat in the right thigh, ripping through the muscle, tearing flesh. Pat let out a scream and tried to stay upright, but her leg was having none of it; she fell, hitting the heavy-duty carpet in the hallway and struggling to turn over before whoever had shot her could finish the job.

‘Ha! Stupid bitch! Thought you could get the drop on me, but I showed you.’ Wayden. Wayden was swaggering out of the panic room with a machine pistol in his hand, waving it like some gangsta rapper type from the turn of the century. He pointed it vaguely in Pat’s direction and let off another burst of bullets. None of them hit, but then he had not been intending them to. Now he wanted her scared. He was being an idiot and that might just cost him.

‘I am going to see to it that your last moments are really horrific,’ Wayden yelled. ‘You want to know just exactly what happened to your sister? Well, how about I do to you what I did to her.’

Pat tensed herself, ready to lift her gun and fire. The fool had not disarmed her. She would get one shot, but that was all she needed. She gritted her teeth as Wayden levelled the muzzle of his pistol at her face.

‘Maybe I should just kill you,’ he said.

‘Maybe you should put that gun down, before I blow your brains out.’ The voice came from behind Pat. She could not see who it was, but it could only really be one person. ‘And you, Patricia, if you lift that shotgun, I’ll end you too. Let me deal with Wayden. You’ve done enough.’

‘You won’t get him the punishment he deserves,’ Pat called out, her eyes still on Wayden and his gun. ‘Men like him, they never get what’s coming to them.’

‘Not for us to decide, Detective Lomax. We gather the evidence and give it to the courts. They decide what the punishment will be. I have witnesses and video evidence of what that bastard did. Him and Neiman, they’ll go away for so long they’ll have forgotten what the sun looks like when they get out. If they get out.’

‘No, they–’

‘You can’t arrest me!’ Wayden shrieked. ‘Do you have any idea who I am?’ His arm lifted and he fired, lead flying down the corridor toward Fox. Two of the bullets hit home, striking her chest and shoulder as the gun jerked in Wayden’s hand. The hollow-point rounds pancaked against her suit. Ignoring them, Fox shifted the aim of her pistol slightly and fired, and Wayden’s upper arm all but exploded as the huge bullet ripped through tissue and bone.

Somehow, Pat had expected that Wayden would scream, but he did not. He stumbled backward until his back hit the doorframe, and then he slid down it to the floor. He was whimpering. Whimpering like a hurt puppy. Through the door, Pat could see the security personnel, still in their seats. They were not going to help. It would just take a second. Lift the shotgun and–

Fox put her foot down on the shotgun’s barrel and Pat winced as her fingers were crushed against the floor. Pat looked up and into the barrel of Fox’s pistol, and then past that to the icy blue eyes of its owner. ‘That’s enough from you too,’ Fox said. ‘You fucked up, Patricia. I can understand it. I lost someone recently. Someone I thought…’ She shook her head. ‘I could have killed the man responsible, but I didn’t. He’s in Cold Harbour now and I am going to really enjoy watching him rot there. You should have taken what you had to NAPA, or even to me.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Pat said. ‘Rich men never get convicted. Never.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Fox said flatly. ‘And now I’m going to have to see to it that you get locked up right next to them.’

Part Four: Confession is Good for the Sentence

New York Metro, 27th January 2062.

Fox’s eyes flicked open as her sleep cycle ended and awareness returned. She had done an in-place backup rather than uploading to the server because, at four thirty in the morning, Naomi had declared herself too tired to continue and Fox had not wanted to leave her alone in bed.

Turning her head, Fox smiled at the sleeping form beside her. Maybe it was simply the novelty, but Naomi seemed to want to spend as much time as possible with Fox. Sometimes, sex was not involved. Immediately. The previous evening had been one of wine and catch-up. Fox had told Naomi as much as she could about the events in Detroit and Fargo. Naomi had told Fox about happenings at the chapter house and with the Church in general. She had mentioned in passing that the memetics department was still seeing random indications of the Eschaton-198 meme affecting some online communities. That was the one which promoted the idea of some worldwide war in the future and was likely the cause of the recent terrorist incidents.

And then they had started on the sofa and gradually drifted into the bedroom where, it seemed, Naomi was determined to discover just how much endurance Fox’s cyberframe had. It turned out to be enough to tire the professional out and there she was, still asleep, four hours later.

Fox took her time examining the beauty of the other woman in her bed: the smooth, tanned skin, the toned body with such incredibly long legs, the sculpted face with the shock of blonde hair, now dishevelled from a night of sex and sleep. Fox considered herself far from ugly, but Naomi… It was still just amazing that the tall, leggy blonde with so much more experience and decades of training would enjoy spending her time with someone like Fox.

There was a strong urge to wake Naomi and see if she wanted seconds, but letting her sleep seemed a better idea. Slipping out of bed, Fox found a suit to put on and wandered out into the corridor as Kit arrived from the staircase.

‘Good night?’ Kit asked.

‘Exhausted Naomi,’ Fox replied.

‘I did more or less the same with Vali.’

‘Good night all round. I’m going to put a call through to Topeka shortly.’

Kit nodded. ‘Checking on the audit?’

‘Checking it’s been shut down.’

When Fox’s parents materialised in the lounge, they were looking happy, but tired. Jonathan was dressed in working clothes: jeans and a sweater thick enough to cope with a Topeka winter. He clearly had plans to work in his fields today. Andrea was only wearing a large shirt and clearly had no plans to go anywhere. Fox had masked her image a little, adding some jeans over her bodysuit, though from her mother’s state of dress, she might as well not have bothered. Breakfast had probably been over for a while, but they were still drinking coffee.

‘Morning,’ Fox said. ‘I didn’t call too early, did I?’

‘We got up a little late,’ Andrea said. ‘We were up late celebrating.’

From the slightly embarrassed look on Jonathan’s face, Fox had a fairly good idea what form at least some of the celebration had taken. ‘Me too,’ Fox replied.

‘Oh?’ Andrea sat up a little straighter. ‘Have you found yourself a new boyfriend?’

‘Uh, no. Not exactly. It’s complicated. I’ll introduce you when I’m sure where the relationship is going. I’m going to assume that the celebration was for the audit being shut down?’

Even if Andrea wanted to know more about Naomi, Jonathan accepted the change of subject. ‘We realise this means another audit is going to have to be arranged.’

‘Which will probably be more Hell,’ Andrea added.

‘But we were absolutely sure Meier was not giving us a fair assessment.’

‘I won’t say I did not feel a little twinge of pleasure when I heard Ray had arrested the man,’ Andrea said, smirking.

‘Ray and a team from NAPA,’ Fox said. ‘This is a big embarrassment for NAPA. We have solid evidence that Meier fixed the Fargo audit for Sherman Wayden, and fairly strong evidence that he was being paid to fix others, including yours. NAPA are going to have to redo every audit Meier was involved in and there’ll be calls for greater scrutiny of all the audit teams.’

‘From what we heard on the news feeds,’ Jonathan said, ‘your main competitor is somewhat embarrassed for reasons other than bribery.’

Fox nodded. ‘I can’t say much about it. It’s still an active case. I’ve got pretty solid evidence, however, and Sherman Wayden’s under arrest for a string of crimes I’d rather not go into. I caught the woman who was murdering his pals at the same time. It was a mess. Bodies everywhere. I still felt kind of sorry for the woman, but what she did was not justice.’

‘Some people might think it was,’ Andrea countered. ‘I’m not saying I do,’ she added quickly.

‘No, I agree. I just happen to think that seeing someone locked away from daylight for the rest of their natural life is worse than killing them. I could have killed Edwin Montcairn, but I think I find more closure in knowing I’ll be able to watch him die of old age on the Moon. I guess it’s instant gratification versus long-term.’ Fox’s eyes flicked away from her mother as a naked Naomi walked into the room, yawning. How could someone look beautiful and incredibly sexy while yawning?

‘The news reports said both of them were injured,’ Jonathan said.

‘Yeah. Wayden shot Lomax in the leg. She should be cleared for interview today. It was a bad wound, but it was all flesh. I shot Wayden in the arm. They’re still trying to work out whether to amputate and replace, or fix it in place.’

Naomi, realising that Fox was in teleconference, grinned. It was a mischievous grin and it made Fox distinctly worried.

‘You’re not going to get pressure to drop the case?’ Jonathan asked. ‘There’s a lot of politics in arresting the son of Palladium’s competitor. Wayden has a lot of political backing.’

Fox watched in vague horror as Naomi knelt beside her legs. A quick change in settings stopped her avatar from responding to movements below her waist just before Naomi picked up Fox’s right foot, fingers sliding over the contours. ‘There’s too much evidence,’ Fox said. ‘They’ll try to get it dismissed. If it goes to court, they’ll try to reduce the credibility of the witnesses. They might even manage it, but the video evidence…’ Fox’s brain went dry for a second as Naomi placed her lips to Fox’s big toe and then sucked it into her mouth. ‘Well,’ Fox went on quickly, ‘that was made by one of the conspirators and it’s going to be hard to refute. Wayden is screwed. He just hasn’t admitted it yet. Even to himself.’

Naomi raised an eyebrow at the word ‘screwed.’ She began running her tongue along the ball of Fox’s foot and the underside of her toes. Fox pressed her lips together and fought to keep her face more or less straight, not helped as Naomi began sliding fingers up the inside of her calf.

‘You’ll crack him,’ Jonathan said, flashing a smile.

‘I’m not so sure,’ Fox replied just as Naomi began kissing her ankle and working her way higher. ‘He’s… delusional. I don’t think he believes he did anything wrong. Or that it shouldn’t matter what he did because he’s… Well, because he’s rich and possibly because he’s a man. There’s a lot of misogyny floating around this case.’ Keeping a steady voice was a lot easier when breathing was a voluntary function, but Fox’s mind was trying really hard to turn its attention to what Naomi’s lips were doing.

‘In that case, I’d imagine being caught by a woman would be a real thorn in his side.’

‘Uh-huh. I might be able to use that.’ Naomi had reached the top of Fox’s thigh. Fingers pulled the fabric of Fox’s suit aside. ‘Uh, I have to go. Something’s come up.’ Naomi lifted her eyes to Fox’s face and then, very deliberately, pushed her tongue deep into Fox’s sex.

‘Nothing serious, I hope?’ Andrea asked.

‘No,’ Fox replied. ‘Not serious at all, but I need to deal with it. I’ll call next week.’

‘Talk to you then.’

Fox was sure Jonathan was trying not to smirk as he waved and then vanished. She looked down into Naomi’s eyes as the blonde replaced her tongue with three fingers and began to lap at Fox’s clit. ‘You are evil,’ Fox said.

Naomi lifted her lips from Fox for long enough to say ‘That’s a terrible thing to say about a nun’ and then she went straight back to work.

~~~

Patricia Lomax sat in the interview room wearing one of the white jumpsuits Palladium had decided were suitable for people in holding. She was not cuffed. She had shown no signs of violence since being brought in and Fox was interviewing her; even back in her Mielikki frame, Lomax was not going to be able to cause damage to Fox.

‘You have decided to forgo representation. Is that correct, Detective Lomax?’ Fox asked as she sat down across the table.

‘You shouldn’t call me that,’ Lomax responded. ‘I gave up any right to that title when I killed Guthrie.’ Fox looked at her. ‘Yes, I don’t need a lawyer. I’ll accept an AI one to go through the process, but I don’t need one for interview.’

Fox nodded. ‘How’s your leg?’

‘They say it’ll heal. They stitched me up and made sure the tissues will reknit. I’ll be limping for a while. How’s your arm?’

Lifting her left arm, Fox rotated her shoulder. ‘Good as new. Well, technically it is new. They replaced it all the way to the shoulder joint. Stripped and reskinned the whole frame. You heard about that, huh?’

‘I saw it. I was kind of surprised when you had both arms in Fargo.’

‘Different frame. I’d have switched to that one anyway, but I wasn’t given much choice. That one wouldn’t have lost a limb to a standard bullet. You’re not going to fight this at all, are you?’

Lomax shook her head. ‘I’m guilty. I know what I did. I’m not sorry I did any of it. I’m not going to deny it either.’

‘Okay. Tell me.’

And Lomax began to speak. She was used to taking depositions from witnesses, and she chose to present the facts, as she saw them, in precise order and with as much detail as she would have wished to get from a cooperative witness. She began with the disappearance of her sister and how she had spent as much time as she could manage in Fargo trying to hunt for her. There was the realisation that the second body at Lake Lida was Amelia and that Guthrie had been put in place to cover up the entire thing. She had grabbed Guthrie in his home and taken him to an old warehouse she knew of, and there she had persuaded him to tell her everything he knew. That had turned out to be not as much as she had hoped, but she had used his login to get all of the case files on the missing girls, and Guthrie had told her that he had been assigned by Sherman Wayden and that the fact-finding group had been involved.

Lomax had got most of the remaining story from Kent Killian while she tortured him in his home. How the group had been involved in various criminal acts involving women for decades, but the trip to Fargo had been set up as the first of what they had hoped would be an annual event. They had had the girls brought in, drugged them, and done whatever they felt like to them. Amy and Molly Tailor had been special; Burrage had supplied a new drug out of South Africa which turned the girls into zombies, willing to do anything they were told. Lomax had left him facing the scene of the rape party he had organised at his place, including the use of his own fiancée by the entire group.

And then it had just been a matter of dealing out justice to the men who had raped and murdered her little sister. ‘Justice,’ Lomax said. ‘I gave them what they deserved.’

‘Revenge and justice are two different things,’ Fox replied. ‘Revenge shouldn’t be part of the justice system, even if society demands it. I’m not going to say I don’t understand why you did it, but I can’t condone what you’ve done.’

‘You’ll never get Wayden in a cage. Neiman… maybe, but not Wayden. He’s too rich, too connected.’

‘Like Harper August and Reginald Grant?’ Lomax said nothing to that, so Fox went on. ‘I’ve got Sherman Wayden cold. He can’t wriggle out of it. If it goes to court, everything he’s done is going to come out where the public can see it. Even if he goes for a plea bargain, he’s going to be a very old man by the time he gets out. And that’s the thing. Imagine being someone like him in Rikers, or Cold Harbour, for decades. Compare that to a few minutes, or hours, of torture and then an end to it. Ask yourself which is worse.’

Lomax looked up at Fox, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She frowned and finally said, ‘I just don’t believe you’ll get a conviction. I saw it too much when I was with NAPA.’

‘NAPA isn’t running things now,’ Fox replied.

~~~

‘Tough week?’ Marie asked as Fox sat silently at the table they had selected at Sheela Na Gig.

‘Tough day,’ Helen replied. ‘I was just watching when she talked to Lomax and I thought it was tough.’

‘She wouldn’t talk?’

‘She wouldn’t stop,’ Fox replied. ‘She’s an ex-cop and she gave me all the details as though she was reporting to her superior. She’s not even trying to fight it. When they assign her an AI representative, I think it might try for a diminished responsibility defence. She obviously lost it when her sister was murdered.’

‘But that does not excuse her for multiple murder,’ Sam said.

Fox sighed. ‘No. No, it doesn’t. I can’t help feeling sorry for her, but she has to pay for what she did. And this is depressing for a Friday club night.’

‘Naomi is joining us later?’

‘She said she would. She has a couple of clients in, then she’s free.’

Sam smiled. ‘She seems more than a little smitten.’

‘Are we going to have to talk to you about dating a professional?’ Marie asked. ‘I have some experience. If you need advice.’

Fox smirked. ‘I’ll start worrying about it if I start worrying about it. I’ve always known what she does for a living and it didn’t stop me wanting her. Besides, I don’t know that this will go anywhere. I mean, she’s a pro and I’m a cop. She’s hotter than Hell and I’m–’

‘Also really hot,’ Marie said.

‘Agreed,’ Sam said, nodding.

‘I think the evidence suggests that you are, in fact, hot,’ Helen said, smirking.

‘Please,’ Kit said, ‘don’t feed her ego further. A swelling head is unattractive.’

‘I’ll just enjoy this while I’ve got it,’ Fox said. ‘And, so far, it’s been really enjoyable. I’m not going to get to interview Sherman Wayden before Monday, so I’ve got all weekend to forget about all of that.’

28th January.

Fox watched Naomi’s face lift from between her legs, the image wavering a little as her inputs stabilised, and wondered whether she could remember her own name. Random fluctuations in emulated neurons were still making her legs jerk, but she had no inclination to stop them.

‘What you can do to my body,’ Fox said, managing a slow shake of her head. She was dimly aware that she was grinning, probably a little manically.

‘You seemed like you needed it,’ Naomi replied. ‘This has not been a pleasant case for you. Too many echoes, I think.’

‘Yes. It’s almost done with. All I need to do now is put Wayden and Neiman in cages. Lomax… I wish she hadn’t done what she did. I’d probably never have gone after the men if she hadn’t, but… I understand her. Too well.’

Naomi slid up the bed and pulled Fox up against her. Fox wrapped her arms around Naomi’s waist and settled her head against Naomi’s shoulder. It felt warm, comfortable, safe. ‘I want to say something, but I don’t want it to ruin a night of debauchery,’ Naomi said.

Fox giggled. ‘Okay. Well, say it and we’ll try not to let it sour the mood.’

‘You may understand her, but there’s a considerable difference between you and Lomax. When you lost Jason, you could have taken the same road as she did. You elected to hand Montcairn over to the proper authorities. I am so proud of you for doing that. I am honestly not sure I would have done the same in your place.’

Fox frowned, thinking of Reginald Grant gasping for air in his habitat on the Moon. ‘I’m no kind of saint, Naomi.’

‘And I thank the Lord for that. Trust me, I plan to enjoy your unsaintly behaviour a great deal for the next few hours.’

‘Oh, well, amen to that.’

30th January.

Sherman Wayden’s right arm was fixed into a plastic cast and then suspended from his neck by a sling. Fox had seen the medical reports; the prognosis was for a full recovery without the need for cybernetics, but right now Wayden’s humerus was held together with surgical plastic supports.

‘…treatment of my client is nothing short of police brutality.’ Slocomb was back. This time he was representing Wayden and he had a squad of additional advisors outside the interview room as well as a notary inside it. The latter was entirely unnecessary given that Slocomb had an implant, but neither Fox nor Helen were going to worry over it. ‘We demand that–’

‘Your client was shooting at me,’ Fox interrupted, ‘and in a manner likely to endanger other people. He’s lucky. If I hadn’t been determined to arrest him and bring him in, I’d have put three rounds in his chest and he wouldn’t be here so you can complain about excessive force.’

‘You can’t prove–’

‘I record everything, remember? We did this last time, Mister Slocomb.’

‘My client cannot possibly be interrogated now. His injuries–’

‘Have been examined by qualified medical professionals who have deemed him fit to stand questioning.’

‘Quit delaying,’ Helen said. ‘Delays are not helping your client. We already have everything we need to lock him up until the Moon flies out of orbit.’

‘Witness testimony from a criminal and video evidence filmed by a porn producer without anyone’s knowledge? You have nothing.’

Helen raised an eyebrow. ‘Odd. Mister Pons has an excellent employment record with Wayden Executive Services and no criminal record. Perhaps you mean Patricia Lomax, an ex-NAPA detective. Not so easy to discredit.’

‘And there are several points in the videos where your client is seen looking at the camera and asking Mister Neiman whether he “is getting all of this,”’ Fox said. ‘Your client knew all about what Neiman was doing. Couldn’t bring yourself to watch all of the videos, counsellor? I have. I can’t really blame you.’

Slocomb’s jaw clenched, but from the look of things, that was as much to stop himself vomiting as anything; clearly, he had watched enough of the video to understand who he was defending. ‘You’ll never get that video into court.’

‘Then I’ll bring this one,’ Fox replied, and the interview room’s screen burst into life.

‘I am going to see to it that your last moments are really horrific,’ Wayden yelled from the screen. ‘You want to know just exactly what happened to your sister? Well, how about I do to you what I did to her.’ There was a pause while Wayden took aim at Lomax’s face. ‘Maybe I should just kill you.’

‘We’re having the bodies of Amelia Lomax and Molly Tailor brought here from Fargo,’ Helen said before Slocomb could speak. ‘Tailor’s parents weren’t exactly happy to have their daughter exhumed, but they agreed to it when we told them it might help lock up her killer. We’ll be looking for evidence of the drug Burrage supplied. We know what it does and we’ll be looking for indications of it. We also executed a search of Mister Wayden’s homes in Fargo and Detroit over the weekend, assisted by NAPA officials. We retrieved a bottle of the nanodrug from his Fargo residence along with copies of the videos we got from Wayden on memory cards.’

‘I wasn’t aware of this,’ Slocomb snapped.

‘I’m making you aware of this. The forensics team only just finished cataloguing the evidence. For the record, the nanodrug is unclassified and therefore legal, but we will be filing charges for possession of controlled substances. That will be for the Cupie and Party Juice we found in both houses. There was enough in Fargo to warrant an investigation into distribution charges, by the way.’

‘I need to speak with my client,’ Slocomb stated flatly. Watching him, Fox was not entirely sure he could bear to say Wayden’s name.

‘Interview suspended at ten forty-three,’ Fox said for the record. ‘Discuss all you want, counsellor. Let us know when you’re ready to restart.’

~~~

‘They’ll use that for more delay,’ Helen commented when they were out of earshot of the lawyers.

‘Probably,’ Fox replied, ‘but they can’t use the “I didn’t know anything about it” defence when Wayden had his own copies of Neiman’s videos. Plus a bottle of that damn drug, so even if he manages to get away with not knowing what it did the first time, he kept some to use after he did know. We knew this was going to be protracted. It’s going to take time to get past the BS.’

Helen frowned and nodded. ‘Neiman didn’t have any of the drug.’

‘And I actually think his lawyer deserves to bring that out. It might shave six months off his sentence. He might be a disgusting excuse for a human being, but he has more limits than the others.’

‘Are we going to get to use Lomax’s testimony against Wayden?’

Fox pressed her lips together. ‘One for the lawyers, but I’d say not. She obtained most of what she knew from torture. She’s not exactly a credible witness. If the defence brings it up, we might be able to use it, but not otherwise. To be honest, I don’t think we need it. Neiman documented almost everything they did, and Pons’s testimony covers most of the rest.’

Kit appeared in avatar form. ‘Mister Slocomb is suggesting that we reconvene after lunch.’

Fox checked the time. She shook her head, smiling a little. ‘Sure. Why not? It’ll give them more time to come up with something entertaining for this afternoon.’

~~~

‘Fox, Major Norton Wayden is requesting admittance.’

Fox looked up at Belle’s avatar and frowned. ‘He’s here?’

‘He is waiting outside the front door. Shall I allow him entry?’

‘He shouldn’t be here. Uh, let him in, and tell him to wait in the hallway. Does he have anyone with him?’

‘No, but he is carrying a weapon. I believe it is a ten-millimetre semi-automatic pistol.’

‘Right.’ Fox got to her feet and retrieved her own pistol from its cabinet beside the bed in her bedroom before heading downstairs. In all probability, Wayden was not here to shoot her and his pistol would probably do little damage, but she had just got her frame back in working order and she was taking no chances.

When it came down to it, Norton Wayden was nothing like his son. Sherman was a young man who spent too much on cosmetic treatments and probably worked out as little as possible to maintain muscle tone. Norton was getting old and not worrying over how it made him look. Unlike General Graves, the chairman of Palladium, the elder Wayden was not aging that well, but he was still fit, still healthy… Or he had been when Fox had seen him in Detroit. His hair was grey, his eyes were a strong brown, and there were not that many wrinkles on his face. He was still a powerfully built man, but today he was slouching and the lines on his face seemed deeper.

‘Major,’ Fox said as she walked down the stairs, ‘you really shouldn’t be here. You’re running an organisation which has policing contracts. You should know this.’

Wayden waved the comment away with a snort. ‘You’re recording everything we say. You’ll have evidence if I try to influence your investigation.’

‘True enough.’ Fox indicated the door to the lounge and walked through, holding the door for him as he followed her. ‘Have a seat. Why are you here?’

‘You have my son in a cell.’ Wayden walked over to the unlit fireplace and remained facing away from her.

‘I do. Considering I had to go through a small army to arrest him, NAPA Judicial agreed that he was a flight risk.’

‘The lawyers tell me you have a lot of evidence against him, but that they believe they can get most of it thrown out.’

‘They’re wrong. Or they’re lying because they’re scared of you. We have two sets of the videos Neiman made. There’s evidence on those videos that your son knew they were being made. Neiman is being pretty forthcoming about what happened over those two weeks in Fargo and the video evidence backs him up. One of your son’s employees, Andrew Pons, has also been very open about the kidnappings, and also on being sent to New York with another man, Silas Paulus Rampton, to kill Patricia Lomax and make sure I didn’t catch her. I have evidence of Rampton following me on more than one occasion. The evidence Lomax collected will probably be inadmissible, but it only backs up what we have from other sources. The case is solid, Major. He is going to be convicted.’

There was silence for a few seconds. Then, ‘I should never have let him become involved with Winsford.’

Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘This kind of attitude to women doesn’t start that late in life. His mother died when he was young, right?’ She got no answer and went on. ‘He views women as… Objects is wrong. Holes. He views women as a collection of orifices he can use. He wants them to do as they’re told. To give him what he wants. Maybe Winsford cultured that attitude, but Sherman had to have had that basic mindset in place long before he met Winsford. It’s weird, because as far as I’m aware, you’re not like that.’

Wayden turned but did not meet Fox’s eyes. ‘Perhaps I should have put more effort into his education when he was younger. There were tutors we… had to pay off. I tried to instil some discipline in him. Perhaps I should have pressed him to serve.’

‘A man like that in the Army? It would’ve reinforced his view. Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, Major, but you were never a woman in the military. Whatever mistakes were made, your son is going to pay for them.’ She sighed. ‘We can be absolutely sure of getting him on most of the charges. He’ll go down for multiple rape and conspiracy charges. Conspiracy to kidnap is a given. If he confesses, judicial will probably bargain the murder charges down to involuntary manslaughter to avoid the complications and they may be willing to drop the possession charges since it won’t add much to the tally.’

‘If he confesses?’ Fox nodded in reply and Wayden began to walk back toward the door.

‘If you want my opinion,’ Fox said as he passed her, ‘I think he learned one thing from you. Dominate at all cost. You were willing to get into bed with NIX and push their agenda to get control of law enforcement and the security industry.’

‘I believe in national security, Captain Meridian,’ Wayden said.

‘So do I, but that’s not what NIX is aiming for, is it? They want control, and you did everything you could to help them get it. You had to know that a lot of the proposals they had you put forward were designed to open up private companies to any snooping they wanted.’

Wayden paused and looked back at her. ‘Be sure you’ve picked the right side before you cast stones.’

Fox let him go, watching as he left the building before she turned for the stairs.

‘Have we picked the right side?’ Kit asked inside her head.

‘Yes,’ Fox replied. ‘Unless the other side wins, and then history will say they were the right side.’

‘And if our side wins?’

‘Then we’re the right side, even if, in reality, we aren’t.’

31st January.

Fox and Helen entered the interview room ready for another morning of repeated attempts to ignore the evidence. Fox’s brow furrowed almost immediately: Sherman Wayden was sitting at the table with his eyes on the metal surface and the lawyer looked… resigned. She glanced at Helen; Helen had noticed too. Something had changed since the previous afternoon.

‘Beginning interview,’ Fox said, ‘with Sherman Grant Wayden and counsel.’

‘Artemius Slocomb,’ Slocomb supplied.

‘Tara Meridian and Helen Dillan attending for Palladium Security Solutions. Note date and time.’ Fox took a seat and peered at Slocomb. ‘Where were we?’

‘My client would like the state to consider a plea bargain,’ Slocomb stated flatly. ‘In return for cooperation, we want the murder charges dropped.’

‘Daddy has been having words,’ Fox said silently.

‘It would seem so,’ Kit responded.

Helen rose to her feet and started for the door. ‘Helen Dillan leaving interview. I’ll get the judicial liaison down here.’

Fox waited for the door to close before continuing. ‘We’ll drop the drug charges, but we won’t go lower than involuntary manslaughter.’ She held a hand up as Slocomb opened his mouth. ‘You can argue it with other lawyers. I want to know what happened to the other dozen girls. No one’s found bodies and I doubt they’re hidden better than Lomax and Tailor.’

Slocomb glanced at his client. Wayden looked up briefly and nodded; they had been expecting that one. ‘We would need assurances,’ Slocomb said, ‘that no further charges would be made from the information gathered on that subject.’

‘You know I can’t guarantee that one way or another,’ Fox replied. ‘Judicial have the final word. I can recommend that no action be taken and, if it brings some sort of closure to the families, I’m inclined to make that recommendation.’

Wayden gave another nod, a lot more reluctantly. There was pain in his face, as though giving up that much was hurting him.

Text appeared in Fox’s sensorium. Helen: Lawyer’s coming. Norton W visited Sherman last night. Reports say there were raised voices. Well, that made sense. The major had told his son to cooperate, even if it killed him. It was.

‘My client has contacts in South America from the contracts he’s worked on for Wayden Executive Services,’ Slocomb said.

Fox’s heart sank, virtually. ‘You trafficked them down there.’ That explained why they wanted the assurance about further charges. Lizette Delvalle was probably lucky to have too much of a public image to be vanished. ‘I’ll want details. You can hash your deal out and then I want details.’ There was always the small possibility that the girls could be traced…

Helen: Judicial oversight in the control room.

Pulling in a deep breath – which she did not need to do, and she knew it – Fox looked at the top of Sherman Wayden’s head. ‘I’m going to need a statement. All of it. You give me your side of the story and then Mister Slocomb can argue the charges with someone else. Start talking, Mister Wayden.’

~~~

‘Major Wayden must have really laid down the law,’ Helen said. She was having a drink in Fox’s lounge to celebrate the closure of the case.

Well, as far as Fox was concerned, it was not quite closed. There were a dozen young women somewhere in Brazil to be tracked down. Kit had already passed all the information they had to the UNTPP to see whether the girls could be found, but no one was especially hopeful.

‘Yeah,’ Fox said. ‘I’m still fairly sure that Sherman thought the only thing he had done wrong was getting caught.’

‘Sounds right. How did he grow up with that level of… entitlement?’

‘Major Wayden blames himself, I think. He said something about not paying enough attention when Sherman was younger. I guess he gave the boy too much for free and the resulting man just came to expect it.’

‘Sucks to be rich.’

‘Huh.’

Belle appeared. ‘Fox, Sister Naomi has arrived and is coming up the back stairs.’

‘Thanks, Belle,’ Fox replied.

Helen grinned and drained her wine glass. ‘That is my cue to leave.’

‘You don’t–’

‘You’ve been looking vaguely depressed since you found out what happened to those girls. You need some TLC and if Naomi’s providing it, I don’t think I need to be here to see it.’

Fox heard them as they met in the corridor outside the lounge. ‘Helen,’ Naomi said, a smile in her voice.

‘Naomi,’ Helen replied. ‘She needs cheering up.’

‘Then I shall provide some cheer.’

Fox smiled, and was still smiling when Naomi walked in, in uniform, unclipping her wimple from her hair as she walked. ‘Helen says you need cheering up,’ Naomi said.

‘I could use something to lift my spirits, yeah.’

Naomi smiled one of her mischievous smiles. ‘Do you trust me?’

While there was no reality to it, Fox felt as though her heart rate began to climb at those words. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Yes, I do.’

###

About the Author

I was born in the vicinity of Hadrian's Wall so perhaps a bit of history rubbed off. Ancient history obviously, and border history, right on the edge of the Empire. I always preferred the Dark Ages anyway; there’s so much more room for imagination when people aren’t writing down every last detail. So my idea of a good fantasy novel involved dirt and leather, not shining plate armour and Hollywood-medieval manners. The same applies to my sci-fi, really; I prefer gritty over shiny.

Oddly, then, one of the first fantasy novels I remember reading was The Dark Is Rising, by Susan Cooper (later made into a terrible juvenile movie). These days we would call Cooper’s series Young Adult Contemporary Fantasy and looking back on it, it influenced me a lot. It has that mix of modern day life, hidden history, and magic which failed to hit popular culture until the early days of Buffy and Anne Rice. Of course, Cooper’s characters spend their time around places I could actually visit in Cornwall, and South East England, and mid-Wales. In fact, when I went to university in Aberystwyth, it was partially because some of Cooper’s books were set a few miles to the north around Tywyn.

I got into writing through roleplaying, however, so my early work was related to the kind of roleplaying game I was interested in. I wrote science fiction when I was playing Traveller. I wrote “high fantasy” when I was playing Dungeons & Dragons. I wrote a lot of superhero fiction when I was playing City of Heroes. I still love the idea of a modern world with magic in it and I’ve been trying to write a novel based on this for a long time. As with any form of expression, practice is the key and I can look back on all the aborted attempts at books, and the more successful short stories, as steps along the path to the Thaumatology Series.

Recently I took the big step of quitting my day job and taking up full-time writing. My favourite authors are Terry Pratchett, Susan Cooper, J.D. Robb, and Kim Harrison. Kim’s Hollows books were what finally spurred me to publish something, even if the trail to here came by way of Susan, back in school, several decades ago.

For More Information

Take a look at the Witches and Ray-guns blog: http://witchesandrayguns.wordpress.com

Links to book vendors and other information can be found there, along with a view on what I’m up to and when it might happen.

Other Books by this Author

The Thaumatology Series

Thaumatology 101

Demon’s Moon

Legacy

Dragon’s Blood

Disturbia

Hammer of Witches

Eagle’s Shadow

Ancient

Dragonfall

The Other Side of Hell

For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

Vengeance

A Midsummer’s Nightmare – coming

Anthologies in the Thaumatology Universe

Tales from High Towers’ Study

Tales from the Dubh Linn

The Aneka Jansen Books

Steel Beneath The Skin

The Cold Steel Mind

Steel Heart

The Winter War

The Greatest Heights of Honour

The Lowest Depths of Shame

Hope

The Ultrahuman Books

Ugly

Shadows

Hunting Mink

Frostburn

Guardian – coming

True Dark – coming

The Unobtainium Books

Kate on a Hot Tin Roof

King Solamet’s Mines – coming

The Reality Hack Books

Reality Hack

The Fox Meridian Books

Fox Hunt

Inescapable

DeathWeb

Criminal Minds

Emergence

The Ghost in the Doll

Eden Burning

Dominance

The Princeps Venator Books

Hunter’s Kiss

Be My Valentine

The Gunwitch Books

Gunwitch: Rebirth

The Children of Zanar Series

The Zanari Inheritance

The Misfits Series

Misfit Magic

Misfit Witchcraft

Table of Contents

Part One: A Very Private Murder

Part Two: Cold Vengeance

Part Three: It’s a Dirty Job, But…

Part Four: Confession is Good for the Sentence

Part Four: Confession is Good for the Sentence