“Good. It would be in the interests of both clients.”
“Have you ever met Adrian 2North?” Ian asked.
“No. Never. Why?”
“Can’t tell you, I’m sorry,” Sid said. “Do you know any other 2Norths?”
“Of course I do, I work for them. I meet them regularly.”
“I see.” Which was an interesting answer, one he suspected was primed by Chantilly. “Any reason why Adrian would come to your apartment?”
“No. I told you, I don’t know him. Is he the one from the carjacking?”
Sid’s e-i pulled up a section of transcript from Ernie’s HDA interview. “Apparently the people sent in to cover up the killing knew your personal access codes. They basically walked straight in, no alarms, no questions. Who have you given the codes to?”
“Only Boris.”
“Old boyfriends? Family? Friends?”
“No. Just the two of us. Really.”
“A service guy? Perhaps someone who came to repair the fridge last year?”
“No. That’s all handled by building maintenance. If anything goes wrong, I have to authorize access and they’re escorted to the apartment by security. It’s all part of the lease. That’s why there are no meshes inside the apartment, so you have privacy. It’s tough to get in, but once you are inside you’re completely secure. I liked that, it’s a big reason I chose the St. James.”
“But anyone in the St. James security team can get into your apartment?” Chantilly Sanders-Watson asked.
“Well, yes, if there’s an emergency.”
“Thank you.” The solicitor gave Sid a modest victory glance. “And cleaners? Does the St. James provide them as well?”
“Yes, I contracted for housekeeping twice a week. They only come when I’m at work.”
“So that’s a lot of people who can come and go without you actually being there?” the solicitor said.
“I suppose so, I never really thought about it like that. The management promised their staff are all vetted for a criminal record. They won’t employ anyone who’s been in trouble with the law.”
“Thank you,” Sid said firmly to the solicitor. “What days do housekeeping visit?”
“Monday and Thursday.”
“Are you friends with any criminal elements in the city?”
“You don’t have to answer that!”
Tallulah smiled sheepishly. “I know a lot of finance sector people.”
“Don’t we all,” Sid agreed. “And others?”
“No, no gangsters or anybody like that.”
“Okay. Tallulah, the medicines in your bathroom, do the people who supplied them know where you live?”
Tallulah blushed heavily.
“Detective,” Chantilly Sanders-Watson warned. “That creaking sound is the thin ice you’re treading on.”
“We need to know,” Sid said earnestly. “A man was killed in your apartment. We need to know why they chose the St. James as the place to do that.”
“I don’t know,” Tallulah insisted. “We got the tox in a club. I’ve never seen the guys who sold them before. See, I’m being honest. This is a complete nightmare for me.”
“All right. Now I know this is a memory stretch, but did you notice anything around that time? Back in January. Someone following you? Someone you kept bumping into?”
“No.” She shook her head, looking thoroughly miserable. “Nothing like that.”
“When you came home from that weekend in Amsterdam, nothing odd about the apartment?”
“No.”
“Any exes making threats?”
“No.”
“How about work? Are you dealing in commercially sensitive information?”
“Not really. It’s all data harvesting and interpretation. The conclusions are AI-boosted. I suppose they could be worth something to the right people.”
“So you’re helping determine future company policy?”
“I think you’re overestimating my position. Our division generates a hundred market proposals a week.”
“No one’s ever contacted you about your conclusions, shown an interest in obtaining your results, offered you money?”
“No. I don’t even talk about them to Boris.”
“Have you got your visual cache from January?” Ian asked.
“No. I wipe it after a week. Everyone says that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
“For future reference: That’s urban myth,” Sid said. “Everyone would be a lot safer if you kept the visual memory.” He could see Chantilly Sanders-Watson raise an eyebrow in derision. She didn’t actually challenge the assertion.
“Who did you tell you were going away for the weekend?” Ian asked.
Tallulah puffed her cheeks out with the effort of recall. “I’m not sure. Couple of people at work, perhaps. I had to okay the days with my boss, so he knew.”
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Sid said. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay here while my team verifies your story. And I’m afraid your apartment has been officially classified as a crime scene. Forensics should be finished by tomorrow. In the meantime I can offer to put you up in a city hotel.”
“Thank you. I’ll stay with Boris.”
“Not involved,” Sid announced to Office3. He glanced at the big wall screen that showed Tallulah’s picture. In it she was wearing a pretty blue dress and smiling brightly, sunlight glinting off her hair like some kind of shampoo advert. “Let’s get rid of that,” he told Reannha. “But in the wild event of me being wrong, I want all Tallulah’s files for that Amsterdam weekend checked and verified. Hopefully we can get her out of here this afternoon.”
Before she distracts anyone else.
“Ian, you’re with me. We’re interviewing Boris next.”
“Oh crap on it.”
Tallulah Packer was released from police custody at four fifteen that afternoon, with a court-granted travel limit, restricting her to Newcastle city for the next fortnight.
According to the team her alibi was perfect. She and Boris were in Amsterdam the whole time. Amsterdam police even managed to extract some log memories of them together, strengthening the alibi.
“Then why her apartment?” Ian asked that evening when he Sid and Eva convened at his flat.
“People who work with her knew it would be empty,” Eva said. “Her holiday request was in the Northumberland Interstellar personnel network. It wouldn’t have been hard for anyone looking for a random decoy to find out. I say she was chosen simply to throw us off.”
“She was evasive about knowing any 2Norths,” Sid said. “She didn’t deny it, but the answer was designed to be ambiguous.”
“Aye, man, you know whose fault that is.” Ian opened a bottle of beer and passed it to Sid.
“Yeah.” Sid took a swig. “I know she’s allowed representation, but Rattigan, Herandez, and Singh? Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Well we know who to blame for that. Boris the dick.”
Sid held the bottle up in salute. “Aye, you called that right.”
“How the hell does a wanker like that end up with her?” Ian said. “She’s beautiful, man. I’ve never seen a lass so gorgeous.”
Eva and Sid gave each other a knowing glance.
“Same background and he’s got money,” Eva said. “It’s not exactly a one-off. Forget it. We got everything we needed from her.”
“Name of the actual killer would’ve been good,” Ian muttered.
“You’re picking on the wrong elements,” Eva said. “The lawyer and the fiancé are a pain, sure, but look at what we achieved. We got the murder site. If we’re ever due a break on this case then it’s going to be down to the forensics.”
“Aye,” Sid said. “You know I’m genuinely proud of you guys, the whole team, like. We were given an absolute bastard here, and everyone stuck to it. I never expected us to last past week one, and here we are with the murder scene and the cleanup crew.”
“But this is about as far as we’re going to get,” Ian said, “realistically, man. It was a corporate battle. We can’t crack that. The real hope was Ralph would squeeze a name out of Ernie. Fuck knows what they did to the poor shit, but if he’d known he would’ve spilled it. He’s the cutoff.”
“No. I think we can take this farther,” Sid told them. His discovery that morning had allowed him to go through the day with high confidence. Now it was time to share, and he was eager.
“She can’t love him,” Ian said. “Not really. She’s way too good for him. She must know that. She can take her pick.”
“Yes,” Eva drawled sardonically. “Boss, maybe we should consider it wasn’t random. What if this corporate shit is all about her work?”
“I don’t think bioil distribution analysis is that critical, is it?”
“She works on demand and distribution patterns. Isn’t that what the one-eleven cartel was formed to break?”
Sid struggled to recall the history. He remembered the cartel being on the transnet news while he was at school. “I thought that was about the producers kicking speculators out of the market.”
“But if this is corporate, then bioil has to be at the heart of it.”
“Yeah. Could be.”
“He’ll ruin her,” Ian said. He’d been sitting on his kitchenette bar, staring sullenly at his feet. “A girl like that, it’s not right. You can’t turn someone like that into a corporate wife. What kind of life is that going to be for her?”
“Ian, she won’t be ending up as some kind of trophy wife so he can win bragging rights at the golf club, okay? You said it, she’s a girl that knows her own mind. Don’t worry about her.”
“What if she can’t see it? I bet he’s a right fucking charmer, that bastard. You’ve only got to look at him to know he’s got the lines, got the moves all right. You know they live on credit, don’t you? All them banker types. They don’t have real cash money, not even in their secondaries. They survive on promises they can’t keep.”
“She knows men lie,” Eva said in a tone that signaled an approaching sense-of-humor failure. “Trust me, we all do.”
“Aye, bollocks. He’s wrong for her.”
“Ian! Later, okay, man. I’ve got some news.”
Eva and Ian both gave Sid the swearing-in-church look of surprise.
“Jacinta?” Eva asked.
“No! Crap on it, two kids is enough. No, I mean about the case, this part of the case. I had to review Ernie’s garage for Tilly this morning. I accessed your visual log, Eva.”
“Mine?”
“Yeah. You went into the garage itself, the workshop.”
“Only for a minute, while we were waiting for Reinert.”
“Yeah, but there was a Kovoshu Valta parked at the back. And I’ve seen that color with those hologram prism stripes before; man, the car is eyeflash enough, add those stripes and you’ve got a match. Boz was driving that car in Last Mile when we ballsed up the exchange observation.”
“Crap on it,” Ian muttered.
“Sherman is connected to Reinert somehow, enough that Ernie loans out vehicles to the likes of Boz,” Sid said. “What are the chances of Reinert being in contact with two people that far up the food chain?”
“You think Sherman is Reinert’s controller?” Eva asked.
“Aye, I’ll give you very good odds on it. Ernie might not be quite the fail-safe cutoff the corporates think he is.”
“What do we do?” Eva asked.
“We don’t go to Aldred with this,” Sid said. “The Norths know more than they’re letting on, or some of them do. What I’d like to do is interview Ernie about his involvement with other gang crimes. Now we know there’s a link we need to uncover it legitimately, so we’re not compromised.”
“Good idea, boss,” Ian said.
“Yes,” Eva said. “Gets my vote.”
“Thanks. The other possibility is that I ask Ralph for some help, off the record.”
“Why?”
“If Ernie can’t open up a route back to Sherman, we’re going to need something I can feed directly to the HDA. Ralph knows how this kind of deal works. I can keep you two out of it, there’s no need for him to know what we’ve been doing.”
“Well, that’s down to you, boss,” Eva said. “I’m surprised the HDA is still here, to be honest. They must know there was never any alien monster.”
“Aye, your call, man,” Ian said. “But if you want to tell him I’m backing you up with this, you can.”
“Thanks but it’s been me pushing this. I’ll take the risk, and the heat.”
“Okay then.” They all raised their bottles to that.
“A word,” Ian said quietly to Sid as Eva left.
“Sure.” Sid waited for a moment, watching a strange flurry of emotion cross Ian’s face. Finally, Ian said: “I want to see her again.”
“Who?” It was instinctive, then Sid realized. “Aye, crap on it, man, you don’t mean Tallulah?”
“Yes.”
“Oh bloody hell. All right, look, Ian …”
“You don’t understand. She’s incredible. It’s like she’s this perfect woman.”
“Okay, man, first off, she’s an engaged perfect woman.”
“Only to
him
.”
“Ian. Listen to me, you can’t go messing with that. Not the way you usually do.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes you do. What do you want me to do here, man, give you my blessing? I’m not a vicar. Man, you know you can’t go after her.”
“Why not? Why can’t I? It’s not like we’re playing by the rules, is it?”
Sid gave him a level, warning gaze. “What we’re doing is trying to gather more leads for the investigation, to get a result. What we’re not doing is wrecking evidence and witness credibility.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Aye, Ian, come on, man! There are a thousand others out there.”
“Not like her. She’s fucking amazing. Hot enough to burn lava. But it’s not just that, she’s smart, and funny. I’ve never met anyone like her before. I could make it work. Aye, for her I could.”
“She’s a potential witness in the biggest case you’ll ever have.”
Ian ran a hand back through his product-glossed hair. “Aye, crap on it. I know. But … come on, boss, have you ever seen a lass like that?”
“Shit. Okay, listen: Whatever you do, whatever move you make, it has to be after the case is over. Do you understand that? I can’t afford to have our logs to be challenged in court.”
“I’d never do that.”
“Aye, all right, then.”
“She is, though, isn’t she? She’s beautiful.”
“Oh crap on me for saying this—yes, she’s lovely. But just remember, she really does have the choice of anyone she wants, and right now she wants Boris. My advice: Screw around with that and you’re asking for trouble.”
“Aye. Thanks, man.”
“I’m sorry. Life can be a real bastard sometimes. Are you going to be all right?”