Division Zero: Thrall (45 page)

“Why are you comparing him to those two companies?”

Kirsten shot upright in her chair, screaming as Captain Eze’s question came out of nowhere from behind. “Holy shit…” She grabbed her chest. “Sir… Sorry.” Blush. “Umm, because I don’t have ninety-one days to check him against every Russian corporate entity.”

He allowed a trace of apology to leak through his smile. “I think you should trust your instincts.”

Beep.

Kirsten squinted. “What the hell is Koloss Venture Capital? How the hell did the search give me that?”

“Probably a few layers in,” said Eze, rounding her desk on the way to his office. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”

“ Can you ask the council to let me sneak up on Commissioner Vernon?”

Eze’s voice echoed from inside his office, a baritone half-shout. “I said assistance, not act of God.”

Kirsten poked the line on the holo-panel. Koloss VC had issued a payment to Nafiz for Ͼ400,000 five months ago. The comments held little of use, something about an expedition to North Africa.
Probably smuggling some priceless national treasure into Russia.

The VidPhone on her desk went off, scaring the second shriek out of her in five minutes. Eze got up to give her a quizzical look.

Wren, are you alright? You seem wound rather tight lately.

She looked at him with a sad stare.
I have three days left to stop Division Nine from murdering an innocent woman. Can’t you call that off?

He sent a defeated gaze at the floor, shaking his head.

“Kirsten?” Samuel Chang’s smiling face shimmered into view over her desk, a life-sized hologram.

“Hi, Sam.”

“How are you doing?” He leaned on his hand. Even if she could not see his mouth, his eyes told her how wide his smile was.

She tried not to take out her mood on him. “I’m having a shitty week. Quite shitty actually. Post-bad-Mexican-food shitty. I almost bled to death a few hours ago, got attacked in my own apartment by a demon a day ago… Oh yeah, in three more days, the government is gonna murder someone unless I prove them wrong. So, yeah, I’m just fucking peachy keen.”

“If there’s anything I can do for you, Kirsten, please ask. I…” He looked to his right twice, and spun back with a smile. “I have a hit on the cyberarm you recovered. It’s an Intera Iron Claw series. Very similar in handprint to a NinTek Warrior. Factoring in that bizarre withering effect, this arm is a ninety-four percent probable match. It’s only a little weaker than military grade and a competent tweaker can get it up to mil-spec. Civilians need a permit for these bad boys, like energy weapons. I traced the lot number for this puppy to a shipment headed for a body shop by the name of Plastisteel Dreamz. With a z.”

“Of course they mangle it.” Kirsten rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that z increases revenue by twenty percent over an s.”

Dorian cracked up laughing, appearing in the chair at his desk behind her.

“Even when you are angry, you are very pretty.” Sam paled, and seemed embarrassed at having blurted his thoughts.

Kirsten smiled at him. The sudden pain in her stomach barely registered compared to her leg. “Thanks. I gotta find this shithead.” She grabbed her thigh. “This time I’m inclined to interrogate his ghost. Can you send me a pin for that store?”

“Sure thing.” He couldn’t look at her now.

She got up, locking her terminal after the call dropped. “Crap, my tac armor is still getting fixed.” NetMini out. Two seconds later, Evan appeared. “Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna go to a store and check something out. You feel anything bad?”

He made a series of faces, calling to mind his autoshower impression of the wizard Monwyn. “Nope.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

She went to hang up, but he blurted, “Wait, the cat is hurt. Be nice to the kitty.”

Kirsten stared at him. He grinned, waved, and kissed his NetMini. A holographic lip print hung in midair for a few seconds before he hung up.

Dorian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t look at me, I have no idea.” He let her walk past him toward the door. “Wow, that Sam guy… He’s really smitten with you.”

She shook her head. “So are most techies. What the hell is a ‘high elf’ anyway?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“First time I ever went into the RTC, one of the network boys asked me if I was really one of them.”

Dorian chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he just thought you were pretty, if not a little thin and on the short side.”

She smirked. “I shouldn’t lead him on. I’m going to wind up marrying Konstantin.”

He followed her into the hallway headed to the parking deck, walking through the wall and three people to stay alongside her. “You’re so sure of that? I’ve been keeping quiet up till now, but I gotta say there’s something not right about him. I swear he saw me when we first went to the Archives.”

Kirsten stopped, whirling on him. “All these months you’ve been telling me not to worry, telling me I’ll find someone out there who will love me and not care I’m psionic. Now, I find someone and you’re telling me you don’t like him?” A collision between anger and wanting to cry turned her face red. “I had a thing for you, Dorian, I really did. I”―she flashed a coy smile― “still kind of do. But, as you keep reminding me, you’re dead.”

A few people stopped what they were doing to look at her.

He sucked in a large breath and put a hand over his mouth for a moment. “I’m not jealous, Kirsten. I’m worried.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Eze.” With sudden acute awareness of all the eyes on her, she lowered her voice to a mousy squeak and speed-walked into the parking deck. “He’s the perfect man, and for some stupid reason I can’t even begin to understand, he chose me. Why can’t you let me be
happy
for once in my damn miserable life?”

When she stopped at the side of the car, he stood in silence, sadness on his face.

“I”―she felt queasy― “I’m sorry, Dorian. I’m stressed out, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
What’s gotten into me?
“You just saved my life…” She willed herself solid to spirits and held on to him, whispering, “I’m scared, Dorian. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

He patted her back. “I asked you to promise me you wouldn’t do anything stupid just to get a man.” Dorian put his hands on her shoulders, pausing until she looked into his eyes. “All I ask is for you be careful. Maybe I’m overreacting, but after eighteen years as a cop, I tend to trust my instincts when I’m suspicious of someone. Something isn’t right.”

She stared at the wall, trying to swallow the nausea.

Plastisteel Dreamz occupied the first four floors of a century tower at the approximate center of Sector 1105. Polished white walls gleamed in wobbling blurs as ten-foot-tall holographic people modeled about the entire way around it. All of the images had cybernetic enhancements: arms, legs, full-body conversions, tails. Some danced, some engaged in choreographed martial arts displays using implanted blades, and some showed off work-enhancing parts designed to boost white-collar productivity.

The two floors above the shop composed a parking deck, while the remaining ninety-four stories appeared to be run-of-the-mill offices. She eased the car through a gap in the wall and settled into a marked space. Still feeling guilty about snapping at Dorian, she ignored a number of cheerful ad-bots on her way to the elevator, which she took to the ground level.

Loud music made her cringe as she walked into a haze of brilliant light. Aside from the dull blue floor, everything in the place was hospital-white. Shelves held model cybernetics and strange sculptures that reconfigured themselves every several seconds in an endless arrangement of stacked geometric shapes. Kirsten was about to ignore a smiling woman in a skimpy dress composed of bands of cloth: one around the neck, one around the breasts, and a strap running down the center to a tiny skirt. About to ignore, that is, until she picked up surface thoughts.

“Wow, you’re alive?” Kirsten blushed. “Sorry, the outfit and that smile, I thought you were a subsent. Only a doll could stay upright on heels so extreme.”

The woman’s smile broadened; her eyes grew intense.

Kirsten stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re right. It was bitchy of me. I’m sorry. I’ve been having a rough week, and I guess I am a bitch right now.”

The smile flattened into a line.

“Yes,” said Kirsten extending a hand. “I’m with Division Zero. I did just hear your thoughts. I’m sorry. Again, it’s been a horrible week for me, and I’m just not in the mood for the usual corporate nose-to-ass dog circle.”

Dorian put a hand on her back. “Rein it in, K. Cripes, what’s wrong with you?”

“Uhh.” The saleswoman fussed at her hair, glancing to her right at a white-haired woman behind the counter; the last two inches of the hair cycled through various shades of glowing blue. “Can I help you, officer?”

“Agent. I’m basically a detective. Look, I’m not here to buy anything. I’m trying to track down a component I believe was sold here. I don’t want to take time away from you that you could be using to earn a commission, so if you could point me at a manager or something…”

The smile returned, genuine. “Mirabella will be able to help you.”

“White hair?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“You know, Kirsten. Half of our job is to make people at ease with psionics, not freak them out.”

She put on a normal, pleasant face while walking to the counter. “She’ll be fine; I just caught her off guard. I would have let it go, but she called me a bitch.” Kirsten glanced up at him. “Don’t say it―I know I was being one.”

“Hi, are you Mirabella?” Kirsten stopped by the counter with her right hand on her belt, perhaps a little too close to the E-90.

The white-haired woman stared in shocked silence, and shivered. “Uhh, I’m sorry. It was just a little Flowerbasket.”

“Relax, I’m not here about anything you did. You haven’t committed any major crimes have you?”

“No…”

“Good.” Kirsten held her left arm up, accessing the data from Sam. “I’m trying to find out who purchased an Intera Iron Claw cybernetic arm with this serial number. More specifically, I’d like to know how he got it without any record of it being added to his medical file. Even better would be if you could tell me if he has scheduled an appointment for a replacement.”

Mirabella leaned over the counter to read Kirsten’s armband display. A wire slipped off her shoulder, connecting her head to the terminal at her left. As the woman read the serial number, it appeared on-screen. In a few seconds, a long list of red text appeared with several bits of it flashing.

“I’m sorry, Agent. The arm you’re looking for was part of a shipment of parts we reported stolen.”

Kirsten squinted. “It was not reported stolen. There’s nothing in our system about a theft report.”

Mirabella swiveled the ethereal screen around so Kirsten could see it. “I don’t know. It says here the entire shipment was flagged stolen-in-transit. It never arrived at the store. Our computer should automatically transmit the loss report to the police after the insurance claim is generated.”

“When did it go missing?” Kirsten looked around the room for any unusual reaction to her presence. All seemed normal.

“Two, no three weeks ago.”

“That report should have hit our system by now. Dammit.” She poked at her arm until Sam Chang appeared. He looked thrilled to see her again so soon. “Sam, can you do me another favor?”

“Yes, of course!”

Dorian gestured at him. “See…”