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The story so far: Grim Khonsu is a serialised sci-fi detective noir story, set aboard a vast generation ship. The client, Aveline Peron, insists Grim investigate the changes she sees in her partner, Xavier Peron. In his investigation, Grim ends up involved in the murder of a tech/narco dealer known as The Damsel, who has been passing something across to Xavier.
I returned to my place via The Bell. I ordered my usual, and the lass behind the counter flashed me a smile, said it would be out right away. It was a standard lie. The food took ten minutes, enough time for me to sip half my water. But the bean fry was good, if a touch too warm.
The food filled a hole in my stomach, and back in my office I needed to fill the hole in my mind. As I removed my coat and hat I had Lola display the case-files.
They hung in the air, the office walls and ceiling a background beige. Lola dimmed the lights so the old folders almost shone. Minerva might go for those ancient books, but my archaic fall-back was manila folders. Scraps of paper stuck from the edges, and multicoloured tendrils connected them.
Lola kicked the ambience in. Soft sprays on the battery that flirted with recognisable rhythm. A breathy horn, treated, the whispered notes layering and swirling, occasional runs rising from the bed of sound. And deep down, the bass locked into grooves that skittered like a hyper narco-user on a rush.
This was Minerva’s noise. It was my music. While others heard randomness, I heard possibilities.
In my line of work, very little is definite. I deal in probabilities. Dalma Roginsky — the Damsel — had passed something on to Xavier Peron, but what? Leaf said she wasn’t in the narco trade, but he went on street-word, and rumours couldn’t be discounted. Starting a rumour was one of the best ways to obscure the truth. But what if that tiny package had something to do with tech, with hybrid research?
So, probabilities. Playing the odds. And to play the game to it’s full I needed more data.
I took a moment to let my gaze take in the names on the folders. Then I pulled at the strands, started opening folders to arrange images and data-files. I moved through the holo with small, stuttering steps that mirrored the scatter of the battery, dancing to the fractured rhythms and the bursts of sound.
“Lola. Need a recap. Peron household. Four members.”
“That is correct. Aveline, Colville, Natuche and Xavier.”
“Alphabetical. Arrange them time-wise — when they joined the Peron arrangement.”
“Xavier and Natuche originated the arrangement. The data is highlighted in the file,” and a data-field irised open. “Colville was the next official member two and a half years later, although he’d been living in the Peron residence since before Xavier and Natuche filed their joint forma. And Aveline joined half a year later.”
“So Xavier and Colville were long-time friends.” I teased data from folders. “Studied together, then both ended up working for Arkhold Research. When Xavier started up Per-LB, Colville moved to Coran Labs as a freelancer, but they remained in close contact.”
“That is correct.”
I tugged work records. “And both Per-LB and Coran use NatLegal.”
“Correct. Although it is worth noting that Natuche Peron only works for NatLegal at a consultancy level.”
“Stepped back when she joined the Peron arrangement. She’s still in contact with the other founder, Nathan Devoire?” Much of this was data I already knew, but it was good to return to the heart. Like the musicians returning to the root chord.
“Without accessing private records I cannot say, but they have been seen in public together, predominantly at various business functions.”
Which could mean nothing. “Okay. Let’s check out Aveline. Training in electro-chemical biology, right?”
“That’s not the scientific term, but it’s close enough.”
“And she did a stint at Arkhold Research, before shifting her focus.” I pulled at an adjacent file. “Took time out to study finances.”
“In very broad strokes. Her studies focused on business accounting.”
“And, like Colville, she’s freelance now. Whole list of suits she’s worked with. Including Coran. But not Per-LB.”
“That would appear to be the case.”
“At least, not officially. Reckon they talk shop at home. Can see that — all four of them tucked up in bed, Xavier and Colville digging into the pharma, Aveline talking funding, and Natuche spouting legals.” I tugged at another file. “Whatever turns you on. Company name’s strange, though. Per-LB. Like the logo, but it doesn’t scream pharma.”
“I believe it’s connected to the founders. Official records have Xavier Peron and Lin Leven-Jacobson as co-signers. I have details here.”
The folder opened. I looked at the serious woman in the image, hair pulled tight and optics over her eyes. The worker to Xavier’s showman. She looked like she resented having to pose for the image. She looked the type to be auditing the minutes away from her research.
I scanned the data. “Left Per-LB a few years after start-up. And let him keep the name?”
“There were rumours of impropriety at the time.”
“Always is. Doesn’t mean much. No big legal case?”
“There wasn’t. It was what is termed an amicable business parting.”
“Sounds legal. Then she went on to form LLJ. Confused over these names, Lola.”
“It’s not confusing when you understand that Lin Leven-Jacobson is rare in having a middle name. Her full moniker is Lin Bethan Leven-Jacobson. She was originally Lin Bethan Leven, then she partnered with Handel Jacobson, and they amended their last name.”
“She still with him?”
“They annulled their arrangement five years ago, when Handel Jacobson took back his original name and ran for science adviser on the Elect Committee. It appears that his once-partner didn’t believe he was a suitable candidate.”
“Bitter at him?”
“Without more intimate knowledge, I cannot hazard a reasonable guess.”
I tugged at more files as the music skittered along. “Not short on funds, either of them. Says she’s got a place over in Aphrodite. Joint dwelling, shares with Riya Leven-Jacobson. Partner arrangement, then.”
“Correct.”
“And this Riya’s part of LLJ. Have these people never heard of work-life balance?”
“Need I remind you that your domicile is through one of the two doors in your office?”
“And need I remind you that you’re an assist, not a shrink?” The battery hit a hard beat for a few bars, triples on toms over a running kick. “Might be worth talking to Lin Leven-Jacobson. Look into it, will you?”
“Of course.”
Lola fell silent as I stuttered through the files again. The horn took up the rhythm, blaring a fraction of a melody that disappeared as soon as it lodged in my mind.
“Aveline didn’t say much about how Xavier had changed, did she? Hard to go forward without more data. Reckon I could do with talking to him as well.”
“Do you want me to arrange a meeting?”
“Best if I do it. Get me his office. And give me a professional backing.”
“Connecting.”
A call window opened in the holo with a ping. It took a moment before a young male face appeared, too much cosmetics, too keen to please.
“Per-LB. This is Nate speaking. How may I help you?”
“Name’s Grim. Should be getting my bona-fides now. Tell me, is this link secure?” A data-field irised out, told me Lola had shot a copy of my details across to the kid, along with information on the security of the connection. Not total, but close enough.
“We treat all communication with confidentiality, San Grim.”
“Good to know. Wouldn’t want to be working for one of those dodgy companies, would you?”
“I assure you, San Grim, Per-LB has an exemplary record. We pride ourselves on the deep scrutiny of our research, and the same attitude carries across into all aspects of the business.” The kid recited his script with a well-rehearsed sincerity. “And your credentials appear equally professional, San Grim.”
“Less of the San, Nate. Get enough brown-nosing dealing with Elect-wannabes. Take it you’ve clocked my business?”
“It’s listed as Investigative Consultant, San ... I apologise, Grim.” He flashed me a smile and almost winked. “That makes you some kind of security detective?”
“Close enough.”
“I trust there’s nothing remiss with Per-LB.” He gave me another smile that lacked the sincerity of his voice.
“Haven’t heard anything bad about you guys. But I’m calling on a business matter. It’s … delicate. Concerns a rival. Nothing proven, so I can’t name names. Wouldn’t anyway — client confidentiality.”
“That sounds most intriguing.”
“On my end, it’s routine. Detecting’s not as glamorous as the shows make it out to be.” Especially the old flats. Although glamorous wasn’t the right word. “It’s probably closer to your guys’ research. Spend most of my time poring over data, looking for the piece that throws everything else into a nova. And this case, I’m kind of short on data. Pulled facts and figures, but sometimes it’s the human element that gives the key.” Not necessarily untrue, and the hints at something deeper brought a gleam to the kid’s eyes.
“It still sounds intriguing. How can I be of assistance?”
“Thing is,” I said, “I could do with getting a grip on how you pharma companies work. Back-room stuff, not the public facade. Don’t want to go to the company I’m investigating, for obvious reasons. So I wondered if I could talk to someone at another place, someone who might give me a look behind the scenes. Would help if it’s someone with experience. Don’t expect any tattle, but some of your higher-ups must have tales of the kind of things others do, right?”
The kid grinned. He glanced to his left, waved a hand around as I talked. “I think I understand. I’m looking at schedules. We do have a great deal of experience within our organisation, San Grim … sorry, Grim. You’d require someone of a certain bearing, of course.”
“If you mean someone who’s willing to talk, then yes.”
His arm twitched. I could imagine his fingers grabbing and squeezing data. The flicker of his eyeballs showed how hard he was working.
Then those young eyes widened. His arm froze. He leaned in closer to his left. Then he turned to face me.
“This is unexpected,” he said. “But … but in a good way. All contact with us is, naturally, recorded and analysed — I’m sure you understand.”
“Can’t always trust what people say. Sure, I understand.”
“Certain individuals in our company have access to the live feeds and the live analysis, and it appears that one of them has taken an interest in your request.” He peered to his left again. “They don’t wish to give their name or position over this connection, but I’m at liberty to say they are someone high up in Per-LB. They’d like to talk to you about the matter you raise.”
“Sounds good. They give a time and place?”
“They have a very full schedule, but they have a spot open later today, if that is convenient.” A ping, and the schedule request opened in another holo box. “Would this be convenient? I understand that it’s short notice, and that we’re approaching the end of standard business hours.”
I didn’t have to think for long. “My line of work, business hours don’t factor. The slot you’ve sent looks great. At your central office, right? I can make that. Thanks.”
A few more pleasantries — the kid had his script, and I didn’t want to come across as uncouth — and the contact window closed.
“I’ve added the meeting to your itinerary,” Lola said.
“Thanks. You get anywhere with Lin Leven-Jacobson?”
“I communicated with her assist and explained that you had a few questions regarding a previous work colleague as part of a current investigation. I was careful to divulge no details or names.”
“Appreciate it. And?”
“And she is willing to see you later tonight. I’ve placed it as ‘to be confirmed’ in your itinerary.”
I took a look at the file. “Confirm it. Going to take a shower, then head out.” I’d hop off the trolley a few stops before the Per-LB place, walk the rest, meet some head honcho there, then I’d have time to see what Lin Leven-Jacobson had to say about Xavier Peron.
At least, that was the plan. And the walk would give me time to figure out an alternative when the plan fell to pieces.