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The story so far: Grim Khonsu is a serialised sci-fi detective noir story, set aboard a vast generation ship. Grim’s investigation into Xavier Peron now involves two suspicious deaths, a dealer known as the Damsel and an ex-colleague of Xavier’s called Lin Leven-Jacobson. And to add more complications, Grim’s been taken in by the authorities.
The kennel was a sprawling network of buildings, rooms and passages. I'd taken the tour various times, been all over. I'd seen the reception and I'd spent time in the holding pens. I'd had hoodlums threaten me in the cells. I'd been around the labs. I'd even had a session in the trainer, running a scenario so Malo could assess me.
I never did quite figure what he was assessing me for. Chief Roman Malo played a tight game. He'd started on the streets and had risen through the nasty internal politics of the ranks. He was Tre’s longest-running head of the Department, and I didn’t envy him the position. If words on the streets were clubs, then Malo had to use them as toxins and blades when he dealt with the Elects and their minions.
He ran a tight pound, was respected more than he was liked. He ran his dogs through a harsh program. They did things his way, or they became strays. Some of those strays were still around, either enjoying their retirement or clinging to whatever edge they could find.
So I knew what to expect when the hounds turned up to deal with Lin Leven-Jacobson’s body. I wasn't surprised that it was Officer Anard and the probie, Sopher. Sopher organised the crew -- forensics, the same doc who'd got all excited over the Damsel's corpse, a couple of bulldogs pulled in to keep the scene tight. Anard took me aside for a friendly chat. He didn't learn much and neither did I. He offered me a lift back to the kennel. I accepted, because it was easier than putting up a fight. At least the buggy had frosted windows.
Anard escorted me to an interview room. Take a cell, remove the bunks and the bucket, fix a table to the floor and bring in a couple of flimsy fold-outs. Cold walls and bright lights. A sealed door, peekers in each corner. And the large wall to my left was an obvious semi-transparent.
Interviews at the kennel were often spectator sport.
Anard left me with room-temperature water in one of those soft beakers I couldn’t use to hurt myself or anyone else. I was alone for ten minutes. It was plenty long enough to enjoy the scenery.
When the door opened again, Chief Malo entered.
“Roman,” I said. “Long time.”
He turned the chair around, fell into it and leaned back. He unfastened the button on his jacket. Roman Malo might have been a keen street-dog, but running his pack from an office had let the weight settle. His gut pushed over his belt.
“Neither of us wants to be here,” Malo said. “So let’s talk business.”
"So this is business. Already have a client, and I'm not looking to double-time."
"Then consider it a favour."
"Another one? Kind of hard to keep a tally of them."
"I'm sure Lola's more than capable. And the circumstantial we have on you, there’s nothing stopping us holding you indefinitely."
“No need to be like that, Roman. Aren’t we pals?”
“Only when it suits. And I’ve turned off observation. We’re private here.” He stroked the greying fuzz around his mouth, then called up a holo. He manipulated it, rotated an image to show through the eyes-only. “You recognise this woman?”
“Looks better in that shot than she did slumped to the floor.”
“You know of her work?”
“Not my field.”
“Wasn’t asking that.”
“Sure. Research, tech-bio hybridisation. Big on theory, wasn’t bothered with practicalities. Nothing illegal in theoreticals.”
“Not in itself. Word is, her theories led to the kill-switch serum.”
“You’ve got solid that stuff exists now?”
Malo stroked his chin again. “We’ve got sufficient circumstantial. But you know of the serum, correct?”
“Inject into a spinal jack, serum contains a sleeper. External trigger sets it to work interfering with the body, needs an anti-serum to switch off. Heard that some flesh crews are interested, reckon they can use it to trigger pleasure receptors .”
“That isn’t the only application.”
“Trigger a reaction so extreme, it needs an anti-serum to switch off. Miss the shot, and it’s goodnight.”
Malo nodded. “So theoreticals are of interest to us. And Leven-Jacobson’s theories nudge against certain boundaries.”
“I can understand that. But isn’t that what Tech Ethics are for?”
“They’re stretched at the moment.” A pause, then, “Every department’s stretched at the moment.”
“And funding’s all tied up with politics. Dukas has been good to you, and you want that to continue. He’s playing the pure bio hand, so you have to follow. Just so long as he gets to stay Elect.” Which, if the polls could be relied on, was a safe bet.
“Good to know you keep up on current affairs.”
“So you’re covering yourself.”
“You’re a smart-arse, Grim. Always have been.”
"Whereas most of your hounds are just arses."
The Chief shook his head. "That's too glib, even for you."
“Knee-jerk. I apologise. Officer Anard plays the arse, but he’s solid. And this newbie Sopher shows promise.”
“Careful. That sounds like praise.”
“Give it where it’s due.” I nodded towards the image of Lin Leven-Jacobson. “So her death’s suspicious?”
“What do you think?”
“Records indicate a medical condition that needed supervision. Don’t ask me to repeat the name, I’d only butcher it. So it could be natural causes.”
“Or it could be something else. And this has been the second death you’re connected with in the same day.”
“That sounds like an accusation, Roman. I called in both stiffs, even hung around for your people like a good citizen. Why do that if I offed them?”
"Maybe to put us off the scent."
"Anard said something similar. You training him to follow in your footsteps, Chief Malo? You lining him up as Assistant Anard? It's got a ring to it, I'll give you that." I pointed at the holo again. "Everyone’s jumping to foul play, but there was no sign of blood at the scene, no indication of a struggle. So it's something in the tox screen, right? There was a glass on the desk beside the chair she'd slid from. The glass was almost empty, and the ice had almost melted."
"You never mentioned that when Anard interviewed you."
"Guess it only just came to me. So, you've got people screening the drinks machine. You reckon something in her drink messed with her medication. Still doesn’t mean it wasn’t accidental.”
“Which is why we need to know more.”
I sighed. “And you want me to look into it, right?”
“You were at the scene. I’d say it’s something you’re already looking into.”
“I was looking into her death before I discovered the body? Could construe that as another accusation, Roman. Thought we didn’t play like that.”
“You know what I mean. This case rubs up against whatever you’re looking into. You understand?”
Malo had this ability to speak with his eyes. They hardened long enough for me to get the message.
“Sure, I understand. This death needs looking into. As I’m so close, you want me to do your work for you.”
“That’s not how I’d phrase it.”
“I know. So, why not assign a couple of your dogs to the case?”
“As you said, I’m pulled tight.”
“More so than normal?”
Malo nodded. “Especially with more leakage from the Alley.”
“So what’s new? Zhusie keeps it in control.”
“Only as much as she can. She can’t control all the vermin who want to infect the rest of Tre with their filth.”
“Now, now, Roman. Some of those vermin might not meet Dukas’ standards, but they still vote. Rats are people too, right?”
Malo’s gaze told me exactly what he thought of that comment. But he held his tongue. Dealing with the policy-pushers had taught him to watch his words, and I guess that filtered down to conversations with Khonsu’s best investigative consultant.
“All I’m saying,” Malo said, in that calm voice he used when he demanded something, “is that this department would appreciate your assistance, Grim. Think of it as a collaboration, or your duty as an upstanding Khonsu citizen. After all, you wouldn’t want to risk burning any useful bridges, would you?”
"Just like you and Dukas."
Malo's expression never changed. "We understand one another, then." He killed the image in the holo, replaced it with a locked file. "I can offer this information. It's set to transfer when you're ready."
"And then I can go, right?"
"This isn’t a cell.”
“Sure.” I pulled up a holo and dragged the info across. Accepting the file meant accepting the job, but I had no choice. I stood, pulled my coat from the back of the chair, slipped it on, then picked up my hat. I dusted it down, for show. "When Dukas gets in, you should hold out for a higher facilities budget. This place needs a lick of paint."
"It needs a hell of a lot more than that." Malo jerked his head towards the door, which clicked open. "Go annoy someone else."
"Place stinks of hounds anyway.”
Malo wasn’t so bad. His favours still stood.
And I’d need all the help I could get. A client whose motives I couldn’t trust, a messed-up four-way partnership that was up to something dodgy, the death of the Damsel, and now the maybe-suspicious death of Lin Leven-Jacobson.
There was no such thing as a simple case.