I steeled my expression, and said: «A persistent one. I'll find the culprit eventually, but I'll do it a lot quicker with your cooperation.»
He wilted under the rebuke, just as I expected. Davis was a grieving drunk prone to tantrums, not an anti-establishment rebel.
«I want to know about her,» I said more gently. «Did she talk to you about her work?»
«Some. We were a stimulus to each other. I listened to her describe her genetics projects; and I explained my own field to her. She was interesting and interested. That's why our relationship worked so well, we were compatible right across the board.»
«You're an astronomer?»
«Astrophysicist.» He grinned savagely. «Get it right. There's some in my profession who'd be badly offended by that. Think yourself lucky I'm so easygoing.»
«Does the JSKP pay for your work?»
«Some of it, my position is part-funded by the University of Paris. I'm supposed to be studying Jupiter's gravitational collapse. Interesting field.»
«You don't sound very enthusiastic.»
«Oh, there's enough to captivate me. But there's a lot else going on up here, more provoking puzzles. Even after all this time observing Jupiter at close range, and dropping robot probes into the atmosphere, there's very little we know about it, certainly what goes on within the deeper levels, below the altitude which the probes can reach. Our solid-state sensor drones implode long before they reach the semisolid layers. All we've got on the interior is pure speculation, we don't understand what happens to matter at those sort of compression factors, not for sure. And Christ alone knows what's actually taking place at the core. There's a hundred theories.»
«And Penny was interested?»
He picked the glass of vodka up, swirled the ice, then put it down without drinking any. «Yeah. Academically, anyway. She could follow the arguments.»
«What did she tell you about her work?»
«Whatever she wanted. What bugged her, what was going well, new ideas. Christ, she would come up with some bizarre concepts at times. Balloon fish that could live in Jupiter's atmosphere, mythological creatures, webs of organic conductors which could fly in the Earth's ionosphere.»
«Anything really radical?»
«What? Those not enough for you? Don't you want to see dragons perching on the mountaintops again?»
«I meant something which could upset national economies, or put companies out of business.»
«No, nothing like that. Penny wasn't an anarchist. Besides, ninety per cent of her time was still tied up with developing the next generation of habitats. She was determined to do as much as she could before . . .» He trailed off helplessly.
«So, no secret projects, no fundamental breakthrough to crown her achievements?»
«No. The habitats were enough for her.»
«Did she ever mention anyone she was having trouble with?»
He gave the glass another covetous look. «No individuals. She was narked with some of the Boston crowd—« He stopped. Flinched. «You know about them?»
«Oh, yes. I know all about you.»
He grunted dismissively. «Big deal.»
«I take it the Boston argument was over the timing of independence?»
«Christ, some secret society we are. Yes. OK. All right, everyone knows it. Penny wanted the declaration as soon as the cloudscoop was operational. She was trying to talk people round, those that supported Parkinson. Which wasn't a good idea, she's not the diplomatic type. I was doing what I could, trying to help. She deserved to see independence.» His eyes narrowed on my uniform's UN insignia. «The old order overthrown.»
«What about you and her, did you ever argue?»
«You shit. You think I'd do that? I'd kill Penny? You fucked-up Gestapo bastard.» He hurled the glass of vodka towards me in an unsteady lurch. I didn't even have to duck, the aim was so wild. It splashed into the pool and sank, leaving just the ice cubes floating about.
I wanted to tell him. That it was just procedure. That he shouldn't take it personally. And that, no, I didn't think he killed her. But his whole face was contorted into abject misery, on the verge of tears.
Instead, I stood up and mumbled something vaguely apologetic. I don't suppose he even heard. Another servitor chimp carrying a fresh glass was already heading over to him when I slid open a patio door and stepped into Penny Maowkavitz's study.
Nice going, boss, shannon said. she was sitting in a luxurious scarlet swivel chair in front of a computer console, registering moderate exasperation.
You know I had to ask.
Yes. And I could have told you what reaction you would get.
Yeah.
But then that's what Davis would do even if he was guilty.
I looked at her in surprise. Do you think he's guilty?
No.
You're a big help.
How did it go at the Cybernetics Division?
Not good. Their computer security is a shambles. How are you making out with this one?i gazed at maowkavitz's computer; it was a powerful hypercube marque, with enough capacity to perform genesplice simulations. shannon had removed three panels from the side of the console, exposing the neat stack of slim processor blocks inside. a rat's nest of fibre-optic ribbons wormed their way through the databuses, plugging the system into several customized electronic modules lying on the carpet.
Shannon shoved some of her loose copper hair back from her forehead, and pointed to her own laptop terminal balanced on the edge of the console. Tough going, but I think I'm making progress.
I frowned round the study; it was almost depersonalized. A white-wall cube with a few framed holograph stills of various animals and plants I suspected where Maowkavitz's own gene-adaptions. How come Eden doesn't know the codes?
It can't see in. The whole room is made of composite, even the floor, and the patio door is silvered.
Funny. Not allowing her own creation to see what she was up to.
You think that's significant?
Insufficient data, which you're going to rectify for me. Today, remember?
If Boston includes police unionization and improved working conditions on its manifesto, they'll get my vote.
After that interview with Caldarola, which I can only describe as badly bungled, I drove back to the police station with the first chill of depression souring my thoughts. Or maybe it was plain honest guilt. I should have gone easier on Davis Caldarola; I knew full well he wasn't in any state to answer difficult personal questions. Then again, Shannon was quite right saying what she had: if he was guilty, that's exactly how he would behave.
Eden.
Yes, Chief Parfitt?
Did Maowkavitz and Caldarola argue very often?
They disagreed over many things. But their discussions were mainly conducted on a rational level. I would judge that they debated rather than argued. Although I do recall several rather intense rows over the years; but none of these occurred during the last eight months. His attitude towards her was one of complete devotion.
Thanks.
I didn't really suspect him. But, Christ, you've got to go by the book. Without that, without the law, nothing would function, society would cease to exist. Police work is more than tracking down lone lunatics. But I didn't expect Davis Caldarola would be too interested in a sociology lecture right then.
I was right. I did feel guilty.
I still hadn't unpacked the small box of personal items I'd brought with me to the office. There wasn't much in it, holograms of Jocelyn and the twins, paper books, some carved quartz we'd picked up on a holiday—God knows where, the memory was long gone. I sat at the desk and stared at it. I simply couldn't be bothered to make the effort to unpack. Besides, if Boston did make a bid for independence after the cloudscoop was lowered, I might be packing it up again real soon. If I didn't stop them. If the police wouldn't follow orders to stop them. If I didn't join them.