Chapter Eight

Kem’s investigations proceeded slowly over the next few days. He discovered some interesting facts about the New Argo, but nothing that could conceivably help him in his attempts to discover what happened. Fascinated by it all as he was, he couldn’t help feeling a sense of futility. After all, he reasoned, it was thirty five years ago. The saboteur – always assuming there was a saboteur – could be dead by now. Even so, what was the statute of limitation on a crime like this? Would it count from thirty years ago, as the latest point when the sabotage could have occurred, or from five years ago when the ship was destroyed? Which was the actual crime? It was thoughts like this that made Kem’s head hurt.

The only area where he seemed to be making progress was in finding out who was against the project. Whilst he had quite a long list of individuals who were against it, interestingly enough, this included Lize’s mother, Caroline Carr, there was only one organisation that had actually mounted a serious protest. This was a group called EarthForward. Kem was aware of them as a fairly small pressure group that constantly called for the dismantling of the arcologies and a return to natural living. Although all of EarthForward’s records that he could access spoke about them being in existence for nearly fifty years, there was almost nothing on file about their activities longer than ten years ago. Kem was prepared to accept that this was due to storage limitations, but he had a ‘feeling’ about it. Especially when one of the few solid references to earlier activities was in a speech made by Carl Lukas – the ex-chairperson for EarthForward – five years ago, where he said ‘it is true that in the early stages of the societies existence, we did things that were, perhaps, wrong. If these things hurt anyone or caused any suffering, we are truly sorry, but, at the time, we felt it was necessary.” What those ‘things’ were, however, Kem could not discover. He sent an info-miner after Lukas. Maybe that would dig something up; it would, at least, tell him where Lukas was so he could talk to him.

Looking at EarthForward’s files, Kem couldn’t believe how tedious all the minutiae of the organisation was. Even the membership lists were boring. As far as he could tell, the organisation was dying. They had very few new members recently and more and more of the old ones were allowing their membership to lapse. Was the whole thing becoming a non-issue now? Kem found that hard to believe. If anything, with the destruction of the New Argo, the whole question should have flared up again. But no-one within EarthForward seemed to be taking advantage of it. He scanned through recent press releases and the only thing that had been said about the destruction of the New Argo was that they were very sorry for the terrible tragedy but if people had listened to them in the first place, none of this would have happened. And, as far as Kem was concerned, just saying ‘I told you so’ didn’t really count as an attempt to stir up a debate. He just hoped that he would get something more from Lukas when he found him.

a Discovering what he could about Carl Lukas took Kem less time than he thought it would. Most of the information he needed was public domain. He thought he could probably get the rest from Lukas himself. He now lived in a small retirement village in Whitley, NovoCastria’s North Eastern tower.

To get there Kem needed a pass. Fortunately, he knew exactly who to call to get one.

“Mr. Logan, good afternoon. Is there anything I can do for you?” Saffia asked.

“I need to speak to Executive Carr,” he said.

“I’m afraid that she’s a bit busy at the moment. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle what ever it is you need, Lize gives me full access.”

Kem considered making a comment about her double-entendre, but decided against it. She probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I need a pass to get to Whitley,” he said. “There’s someone there I need to talk to.”

“I’ll arrange it for you, Mr. Logan. I’ll e-mail it to you within the hour.”

“Thanks, Ms. Chance. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Kem followed that call with one to Lukas.

The man who answered was old and looked unable to afford the anti-geriatric treatments that richer people used. Bateman, for example, although in his late sixties, looked to be in his mid-forties. Lize looked to be in her early thirties. Kem knew that he looked older than she did, despite being eight years younger. Lukas was wrinkled, so much so that Kem could not see a patch of smooth skin. He had weak, watery grey eyes and sparse, grey hair.

“Mr. Lukas?” Kem asked.

“Yes. That’s me. Who are you?” Lukas had a slight Southern United States accent, a gentle drawl which Kem thought explained things. People from The Texan Union were extremely resistant to anti-geriatrics. Juh said that it had something to do with ancestor worship. That was why they still kept President Conrad’s body on display in the centre of Dallas.

“My name is Kem Logan, I’m a Private Investigator,” he said. “I’d like to come and talk to you about EarthForward.”

“Is it important?” Lukas asked with a sigh. “You do know I’m retired, don’t you? If there is anything you need to know about the current activities of EF then you should talk to James Earle. He’s the chairperson now.”

“I know. I may need to talk to him later, but it’s actually about something else.”

“It’s this whole thing with the New Argo, isn’t it? I wondered how long it would take. Well, you’re the first, so I suppose I can practice my statements on you before the news-tapers get here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lukas. I’ll be there this afternoon.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Lukas told him, unconvincingly.

Kem’s first idea that Lukas might not have been rich enough to afford anti-geriatrics was completely disproved when he arrived at his home. Not that he had ever really given any credence to the thought; Whitley was the money centre of NovoCastria and, as such, you had to have money to live there. The cost of living in Whitley was at least twice what it was in Town or Gateshead Towers. It was nearer to four or five times higher than in Shields. Kem had never found an adequate explanation for this difference, either. He thought it was some sort of snobbery on the part of the Whitleyans. Not that he really cared, he always found that tower to be somewhat stale and staid.

Whitley Retirement Village was secluded and fenced off from the rest of NovoCastria. It appeared to be a quiet, cosy English village, in the middle of the countryside, down to the duck pond in the middle of the village square, filled with ducks that were probably robotic and a mock-Tudor pub next to the church. Above him, sophisticated holographic equipment made the ceiling into a wide, blue sky with little fleecy clouds floating across, pushed by the gentle breeze, scented with fresh-mown grass. Kem felt suddenly agoraphobic. This was far too much nature for him, he was definitely a city-boy.

Lukas lived at the end of a small, muddy lane. To Kem’s eyes the house was a cramped, ill-designed, bizarre-looking cottage. It fit the style of the Village perfectly. It had all of the usual attributes of a country cottage – ivy growing up the walls, a thatched roof that looked as if it would blow off in a high wind, not that there would be any here, leaded windows and a little vegetable patch. Kem was amazed at this synthesised return to medieval living. But, he concluded, people’s ideas of heavenly perfection were often bizarre.

Kem rapped on the door and after a few moments Lukas opened it. The rest of his body was as ravaged by age as his face. He stared at Kem for a moment and then, wordlessly, invited him inside.

The inside of the cottage was as antique as the exterior. Or at least, it was meant to look as if it was. As he settled on the huge, leather covered sofa in the living room, Kem spotted the tell-tale signs of modernity. One wall contained a view-screen, although its stand-by state was a representation of a painting of an idyllic country scene. Kem thought it might be the Village itself.

“What will you drink?” Lukas asked, gruffly.

“Tea please,” Kem replied.

“Tea. Hah. Wimp’s drink. House, gimme a cup of tea and some good bourbon. And some biscuits for the guest.” The last he said with his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Seconds later, a small robot came trundling through the door, a cup of tea, a glass, a bottle half full of whisky and a small tray of biscuits on its flat upper surface. It was then that Kem realised exactly how much effort had gone into making this place. He had had some idea already, its appearance, a small village ten storeys up the side of the Arcology and nowhere near the external walls. But it was the little touches, like the dark wood finish on the robot, making it look like an antique tea-trolley, albeit an automated one, that truly gave it away.

Lukas paused to sip his bourbon, looking calmly at Kem. Kem looked back, wondering of it was going to be up to him to start the conversation or if it would be more polite to wait, when Lukas spoke.

“You want to know if EarthForward sabotaged that bastard ship, heh?”

Kem wasn’t expecting Lukas to be so forward about it, or so incisive as to cut right to the heart of the problem. But, on reflection, he realised that there weren’t many other reasons to be here, he wasn’t going to come all this way just to join up.

“Well¼” Kem started, but was interrupted by Lukas, who had merely paused to take another sip of his whisky.

“We didn’t. We always hated it and the terrible destruction inflicted on a planet we never knew anything about, but we wouldn’t have sabotaged it. EarthForward’s primary belief is in the preservation of life, all life. And not by sticking people in these glass cages, but by living in harmony with the land. Sure, there’s always a few hotheads who may go a bit far, but we never, ever killed.”

Lukas paused to take another sip. Kem waited, watching him intently.

“And secondly,” Lukas continued. “Even if we did do something, do you really think I’d tell the first person to come along and ask? Do you even think you are the first person to ask?”

He started making a strange, wheezing sound in the back of his throat. It took Kem a few worried seconds, thinking that Lukas was going to die on him just to prove a point, before he realised that the noise was laughter.

“You kids, you think that all it takes is a few fancy moves with your AI and you can find out anything. Let me tell you, when I was young, back when I was active in the grassroots of EF, I did tricks with AIs that you won’t have dreamed about. I had ‘em roll over and play dead so’s we could get into and out of secure places, so we could protest. Once I even got into Executive Johnson’s offices. They belong to that girl now, you know? What’s ‘er name? Carr. Yeah. We got in there and downloaded all of his sensitive files on to the ‘net. They never ever found out who did that one.”

Lukas laughed again. His accent and his voice were both getting stronger.

“Last year, I had a reporter from one of them news-tapers in here talking to me about my time in EF. I told him stuff that had him squirming with excitement. I told him about the time we spiked the NYA water reservoir with LSD, so all the residents would have to move into the countryside. I told him about us filling the New Argo with EF members so we could start fresh on a new world. Hell, I told him loads of stuff. None of it anywhere near true and the idiot released it without double-checking it. Last I heard, him and his editor were working spewing out crap for one of them little sensationalist rags. So, I wouldn’t expect to hear anything true coming from my lips about any of EF’s activities. I’d say you had a wasted trip, son.”

Kem drank his tea in silence, considering what he had heard.

“In that case, thank you for your time, Mr Lukas. I appreciate it.”

Lukas wheezed his laugh again.

“You are so polite, aren’t you?” His tone of voice was patronising, as if he were trying to explain a difficult concept to an idiot child. “What you mean is that I’m an ugly, mean old bastard who’s been playing with you and you wish I was twenty years younger so you could hit me. Well, I’ll answer that meaning rather than what you actually said. Yes, I am ugly, I am old and I am definitely mean. But, let me tell you something that I guarantee is true. I got like this because of the Executive Committee. If they’d listened to someone else other than themselves just once, we might have been able to get somewhere. But they don’t listen to no-one else if they don’t have to. And believe me, they really don’t have to.”

“But, surely you have to realise that you’re in a minority,” Kem argued. “I mean, if people don’t like the things the Committee are doing they have a chance to vote for someone else.”

Lukas laughed so hard at this, that he started to cough. Kem went over to him and helped him sip his drink. He pushed Kem away and breathed heavily for a few moments.

“Shit, boy. You don’t understand, do you? Mind, I don’t blame you. You’ve been taught from day one to just believe what you see on the news. Do you really think that they let you and me decide whose going to be in the Committee? Hell, they’ve got it all sewn up. Bateman now, he’s the guy that they all follow. I met him once. This was around the time that the New Argo was launched. He’d just been elected to the Committee, sponsored by Executive Johnson. Interesting how his step-daughter got Johnson’s post after the old man died, isn’t it? Anyway, Bateman came across as a real nice guy, but a serious control freak. I tried to argue with him about the New Argo and he refused to listen, just interrupted constantly and wouldn’t listen to me. Like I say, he seemed like a real nice guy. Loads of charisma, you know? But, behind it all, I could tell that he was going to be the biggest bastard of all of them. Even back then, I knew he was going places.”

Lukas paused and looked out of the window at the simulated rolling greenery that lay beyond his window.

“I reckon it was him that made sure I ended up in this shit-hole. It’s like a prison in here. Of course, they treat you real nice, make sure that you’ve got everything you could ask for, they’ve even made sure I’ve got my favourite drink,” he picked up the bottle to illustrate his point. “I think they’re hoping I’ll drink myself to death. But, even so, I’m monitored constantly – all for my own good, of course, but I can’t even take a crap without it being analysed by some fucking AI!.”

He paused, took another sip of whisky and looked at Kem, his once-watery eyes now shining and hard, flecks of silver catching the light and glowing like mica in granite.

“How dare you come here and accuse me of trying to kill people? You think that you’ve got it all worked out, that you know exactly what’s what, who are the good guys and who are the bad guys. You know fuck all. Go on, fuck off before I set the guards on you.”

Kem stood quickly and left without saying another word. Walking back to the h-tram station, disguised to look like an old-fashioned train station, he mulled over Lukas’s words. For the first time in his life, he was aware of the cameras that were dotted around the place.

The station’s single entrance was guarded by a huge drone carrying an equally large Screamer. Kem handed his ident card over and watched as it was placed into the reader. He wondered, idly, what would happen if there was a glitch and it was rejected. Following hard on the heels of that thought was another, wondering whether or not Lukas’s ident card would allow him to leave.

Chapter Nine

Rae sat down opposite Bateman and watched him closely. He couldn’t decide if sitting here, waiting to be noticed was a good thing or not. On the one hand, it was an opportunity to watch the great man at work and marvel at how smoothly he ran everything. On the other hand, as Bateman’s deputy, he had his own job to do and this cut into the time he had to do it. He was, however, perfectly aware that to interrupt would not do anything except annoy the Chief Executive and prolong the time he had to wait. So, as he did every week at this time, he sat and waited quietly and considered his role in life.

Eventually, Bateman switched off his screen, dismissed his AI avatar and turned towards him.

“Good afternoon, Rae,” he said, his first acknowledgement of the young man, apart from a grunt when Rae first entered the room.

“Good afternoon, Chief Executive,” Rae replied, being careful to keep his boredom from entering into his voice.

“Tell me what you have been doing this week,” Bateman told him.

Rae explained his activities, specifically his work on the upcoming discussions with the Christian-Muslim Coalition. This was one of his roles as Deputy to the Chief Executive. He had to prepare all the groundwork for Bateman, who would then go in and tie up all the loose ends and complete the negotiations. And take all the glory. Well, Rae knew that it was the price you had to pay for a future position on the Executive Committee and, if he played his cards right, he would end up beating both his boss and Lize Carr for the position of ‘youngest ever member of the Executive Committee.’ Which reminded him...

“Chief Executive,” Rae started. “May I ask why you have chosen not to accede to Executive Carr’s wishes to conduct an investigation into the New Argo disaster?”

“Ha. Do you think I should have done?” Bateman asked, reasonably.

Rae recognised that reasonable tone. It was deceptive and he knew that it meant that he was going to have to choose his words carefully if he wasn’t going to avoid being verbally assaulted. And when Nicholas Bateman decided to let loose, the aftermath was never pleasant.

“Well, I just thought that as it was your first ever role, you’d be interested in the outcome. And when the outcome is this disastrous - not that it has anything to do with your running of the project, of course - you might have wanted to know why.”

“Ha. Of course I want to know why, Rae. However, despite appearances, I am not able to act on every little whim that I have. It is my duty to consider what is the best use of time and resources. And, investigating a thirty five year old project that nobody except my step-daughter has any real interest in any more, does not constitute best use. People will forget about it very quickly and it will just become another hyperlink in the history sims. And, you have to wonder if that is a bad thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Bateman turned to the picture window and swept his hand out to take in the milling crowds seventy floors below him on the streets of NYA.

“Well, look at all of them. I may be becoming cynical but do you really think that people like that could survive on a distant planet without Simlex, without an arcology roof, without even the very basics of civilisation? They need all of this to survive, just like they need us - the Executive Committee, Rae. We are the best and brightest the Human Race has to offer and we are staying here. There is nothing out there that we want or need. There is nothing out there that they want or need that we can’t give to them. They are ours to care for and we can’t do that if they are so far away. So, we should face it. This is where we are and this is where we stay.”

Rae nodded in agreement, although his mind was churning. What the Chief Executive was saying sounded reasonable enough, but he wasn’t sure that he agreed with it. Especially the bit about there not being anything out there that was wanted or needed. He wouldn’t mind going to look. But, he supposed that was the thing about being on the Executive Committee. That was one thing that Bateman said that he did agree with wholeheartedly, you had to subsume your own desires to those of the general populace. And, if that meant you strangled the desire for inter-planetary exploration, then so be it.

As Kem re-entered his office, Julia manifested her avatar.

“You’re back,” she said.

“Looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t be flippant with me or I’ll not give you your messages.”

“Sorry, Julia,” Kem apologised. Julia could get quite stern when she wanted to be, although it was usually a game. She loved playing with emotions, both her own and those of other people. Sometimes, a little too much. Kem occasionally wondered if he’d done the right thing when he had last reprogrammed her. Perhaps he’d made her a little too human. Admittedly, part of his reprogramming had involved setting up a complete interactive environment for her within the confines of her central processor, but he was never one hundred percent certain that it was enough. He wondered if she secretly longed for the ability to really get out and about and see the real world. Still, she wasn’t showing any of the usual glitches that many very high-level AI personalities showed. Kem had even heard of one or two who had become close to getting dangerous, before their Asimov circuits kicked in. He was sure that Julia would be okay, though.

“You’re forgiven,” she said, flashing him a brilliant smile – one of her new innovations.

Kem waited, expectantly.

“What?” Julia asked, teasingly innocent.

“The messages?”

“Oh yes, of course, sorry, I forgot! You had one from Juh, saying that Angela has just had a scan. He says it is utterly perfect. All fingers and toes intact!”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

“Yes, one from Saffia Chance, inviting you to dinner with Executive Carr this evening to discuss the case. I told her you would be delighted. You are to be at ‘Les Bacchantes’ on level thirty eight at seven thirty.”

“Dinner with Executive Carr? Bloody hell.” Kem found himself getting nervous at the thought. “Should I wear my tuxedo? Do you think I should take flowers for her?”

“Flowers would be ever so sweet,” Julia told him. “I’ve told your house computer to clean your ‘going to parties’ suit. Considering it is now quarter to five, I’d consider going home and getting ready if I were you.”

“Really? Is that what you’d recommend, is it? Well, thank you, Miss Manners!”

“Oh, sod off, Kem. Go and get a shower. You smell,” Julia said, before switching off.

Kem laughed and walked out, closing the door, feeling the lock click into place behind him. Pausing, he lifted his arm and sniffed. He didn’t think it was that bad.

***

Lize stood in her bedroom, a towel wrapped around her chest, another on her head.

“Hurry up, Saffia. You’ll wash away in there!” she called into the adjoining bathroom.

The sound of the shower stopped and shortly afterwards, Saffia wandered out of the room, rubbing her hair vigorously with a towel. Lize watched appreciatively as she walked across the room to her chest of drawers.

“What are we going to wear?” Saffia asked.

“I want you to look stunning,” Lize replied.

“What, don’t I always?” Saffia put on a mock pout.

“Always. But tonight I want you looking especially good.”

“Showing me off to the hired help?” laughed Saffia.

“Absolutely. I want everyone to know how sexy you are.”

Saffia pulled a drawer open and pulled something out.

“Okay, I’ll be sexy on the outside for Logan. I’ll be even sexier on the inside for you,” she said as she revealed the garment she had chosen. Dangling from her fingers was a diaphanous, cream silk and lace teddy. Slowly, sexily, she slid it up her legs and over her body, settling the thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders.

“That feels so good,” she said, enticingly. “I love the way it feels against my skin. So smooth and soft.”

She placed her hand between her legs and played with the pearlescent buttons that lay there.

“And these feel so good, pressed against me. I imagine that they are your fingertips touching me gently.”

Lize sat on the bed watching this un-striptease and shivered. She loved it when Saffia was like this.

Slowly, Saffia slid pale cream lace top stockings up her legs and attached them to the suspenders that were part of her teddy.

“Now, it’s your turn,” she said, pulling a black silk slip, bra and panties from the drawer.

She walked over to the bed and pulled Lize’s towel away from her. First she helped Lize on with the bra, then she knelt down in front of her and slinked the slip down over her body, gently smoothing the creases over her breasts and buttocks. Lize took Saffia’s arm and pulled her down onto the bed beside her.

“You know,” she said, huskily, her voice passionate. “This is going to make us late meeting Kem.”

Saffia’s reply was muffled by Lize’s mouth.

***

Barnes’ employer sat watching his view-screen, enjoying the show. He always enjoyed it when he managed to catch a live performance from the two women. Although he had to admit that he had nothing against the recordings.

***

Kem walked up to ‘Les Bacchantes’, a small bunch of flowers in his hand. Standing beside the entrance, was a muscular female drone, dressed in a long, black frock coat and trousers. The seams on her suit appeared to be straining slightly, giving the suggestion that at any moment she could burst out of it. The look on her face implied that, really, you didn’t want to be the cause of her bursting. However, she calmly and quietly opened the door for Kem, murmuring a greeting. Kem thanked her as he went past.

Inside, he had difficulty making out any details. The lighting was low, except for a spotlight shining on a woman singing on a stage at the far end of the room. She was tall, blonde and wearing a tight fitting, silver dress. Behind her a band was accompanying her slow, romantic crooning. Standing in the doorway, Kem looked around him. There was something about this place that didn’t quite seem right. A gentle cough alerted him to the presence of the head waiter standing at a lectern to his right.

“Can I help you, sir?” he¼ no, after a moments confusion, Kem realised that it was a very androgynous she¼ asked.

“I’m here to meet Executive Carr. Has she arrived yet?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Would you like to wait at the bar until she does?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

She motioned to a waitress who came across and guided Kem through the tables. Looking around him, he realised what it was that seemed wrong. He was the only man in the room. Settling at the bar, he asked for a large scotch and carefully scanned the place. His suspicions were confirmed as he stared into the half gloom. There were two or three couples on the dance-floor in front of the stage already and they were definitely single-sex. Those tables he could see clearly held only women. Something clicked in his head and he pulled out his computer pad. ‘Bacchantes’. That was something to do with the Greek myths, he was sure of it. He remembered reading about it when he was at school. What was it? Pulling up his encyclopaedia, he ran a search on the word. Yes, there it was.

BACCHANTE (noun): A worshipper of Bacchus (also known as Dionysus.) One of the most famous incident involving the Bacchantes was the attack upon Orpheus after his failure to rescue his wife, Eurydice, from Hades. A group of female worshippers of Bacchus in an orgy of violence tore him limb from limb, leaving him a disembodied head that acted as an oracle. It is referred to in ‘’A Midsummer Night’s Dream” as one of the possible performances for the wedding feast: “The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals/ Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage¼”(Act V:Sc.1:Line 48-49)

Kem drained his scotch in one swift gulp. He had a sudden mental image of becoming the centre-piece for some sort of lesbian Orphic re-creation. Except he was fairly sure that he wouldn’t start spouting oracular verse afterwards. He called for another large scotch. Whatever happened, there was going to be no way he was going to be able to get anywhere with Executive Carr. Those idle daydreams of her falling madly in love with her handsome private eye after his successful identification and capture of the bad guys and whisking him off to her penthouse love-nest for a night of passionate lovemaking¼ Well, that was going to be all they were. Not that they were ever really anything but idle passing thoughts while he was taking a break from work. Nor would he ever tell anyone else about them. Juh, especially, would die of laughter.

As he drained the last drops of his second glass of scotch, Kem idly glanced through the menu that lay on the bar next to him. He was certainly glad that he wasn’t going to be paying for the meal. There were two things in the menu that suggested that this was going to be exceptionally expensive – obviously a restaurant for very rich lesbians. Firstly, everything, even the descriptions, were in French. Secondly, none of the dishes were priced. While Kem didn’t have a lot of experience of eating in a fancy restaurant – he preferred the more down-to-earth eating establishments, also known as those ones he could afford – he was well aware that un-priced, foreign language menus added significantly to the final total. He glanced up from slowly figuring out what the menu was telling him to see Lize coming through the door, followed by Saffia.

“Damn,” he whispered. He hadn’t expected anyone else would be coming.

As they were led over to him, Kem got a good look at the two women. They were stunning. Lize was wearing a classic little black dress, with a small, silver rose pinned to her chest and a silk scarf around her shoulders. Saffia wore a long, emerald green silk gown, a small emerald on a silver chain around her neck and she was carrying an extremely compact computer pad. Kem suddenly realised something about the two of them. This was a lesbian restaurant. They had arrived together. That probably meant¼

“Good evening, Kem,” Lize said.

“Good evening, Executive Carr, Ms. Chance.” Kem offered Lize the bouquet. “I’m sorry, Ms. Chance. I wasn’t expecting to be dining with you as well.”

“Don’t worry Kem, we’ll share it,” Saffia told him, taking it from Lize and smelling the flowers. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you, Kem,” Lize said. “Shall we eat?”

The meal was as delicious as Kem had been hoping. The mussels in cream and white wine sauce that he ate for his starter were cooked to perfection, almost melting in his mouth, leaving bursts of seafood and garlic and herbs that mingled in his mouth in a culinary symphony. He thought that the main course would have to work hard to beat that, but the ‘médaillons de boeuf avec ses légumes’ made the mussels pale into insignificance. Kem felt that he never wanted to eat again, because there would be nothing to compare to with this meal. Lize chose wines, both red and white, that perfectly complemented every course. They drank several bottles during the two courses. They talked about this and that, Kem discovering more about the relationship between the two women and finding himself opening up to them about his life.

“So, Lize,” Kem said, whilst they were waiting for dessert to arrive. “Can I ask about the portrait you have on the wall of the station? Sorry if this seems out of line, but it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you would have.”

“That thing? My father commissioned it when I was first elected. I couldn’t think of anywhere else for it to go,” she explained. “Hideous isn’t it?”

Kem and Saffia giggled drunkenly in agreement.

When the tea and coffee had arrived and they were sitting back in their chairs relaxing, Lize finally decided that it was time to move from pleasure back to business. She sat up in her chair and turned to face Kem.

“What progress have you been making, Kem?” she asked.

“Very little, I’m afraid, Lize,” Kem told her. “I told you it would be difficult and, in these early stages, I’m still collating the information I have and trying to find out what else I need.”

“What have you been doing? Who were you going to see in Whitley Tower?”

“Carl Lukas, the ex-chairperson of EarthForward,” Kem said. “He wasn’t helpful. He didn’t tell me anything useful.”

“You went to see Lukas? You’re a brave man,” Lize remarked. “I’ve met him a couple of times and he terrifies me. I think he’s insane. He has all these ridiculous conspiracy theories.”

“I don’t know. He told me some of them and they didn’t sound too strange. It sounded like he knew what he was talking about.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Well, he thought he was being held prisoner in the retirement centre. And it certainly looked like there was a lot of security for a place like that. I mean, there were cameras everywhere.”

“Whitley Village Retirement Centre is the best sheltered accommodation that money can buy,” Lize said. “People go there when they get old precisely because of all the security. They want to feel protected, whilst still being free to roam around as they want. Those cameras are there for the residents. If one of them has an emergency, someone will be there in minutes to help them. I understand that my stepfather plans to move there when he retires in a couple of years.”

“That’s something else Lukas told me,” Kem told her. “He claimed that the elections for the Executive Committee are rigged. That Nicholas Bateman helped you get your position.”

The atmosphere around the table suddenly chilled. Both Saffia and Lize looked sharply at Kem and he realised that he had said something that he really shouldn’t. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had quite so much to drink.

“I assure you, Kem,” Lize said coldly. “I got my position through my own hard work. Yes, my stepfather gave me some hints and tips and I worked in his offices before standing for election. But he never tried to manipulate the elections. If I thought for a moment that that had happened, I would stand down immediately.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I was just repeating what he said to me,” Kem apologised. “I’m not saying that I believed him. I know you’re popular with the electorate, I voted for you myself.”

“If you had heard that story from as many different sources as I have then, I assure you Kem, you would get annoyed about it as well. People seem to think that for some reason I’m incapable of managing on my own. It just really gets to me sometimes.”

“Of course, I understand.” Kem was trying to back off from the confrontation, bewildered as to how it had become so serious so suddenly. He realised that he had really hit a nerve but he felt that she wasn’t telling him the full story. However, it was something he would have to leave for another day.

They discussed the case for a little while longer, but all the momentum and the easy-going atmosphere of earlier in the evening had dissipated.

“Well, I must go, I have something to do in the office before I get to bed this evening,” Lize said to him, motioning for a waitress to bring the bill. She slid her ident-card into the computer pad she brought across and pressed her thumb onto the authorisation panel. A green light glowed to show acceptance.

Lize stood, wrapped her scarf around her shoulders and picked up her bouquet.

“Thank you for a lovely meal, Lize. I’m sure I’ll find something soon,” Kem told her.

Lize gave him a short smile and shook his hand formally, before wishing him a good night.

“Don’t worry about it, Kem,” Saffia whispered to him, as she stood up to leave. “You just hit Lize’s major sore spot. That sort of accusation has been levelled at her regularly since she was first elected and it pisses her off. That’s the drawback of being the boss’s daughter, I suppose.”

She gave him a little peck on the cheek and followed Lize out of the door.

“Well, you really screwed that one up. I think Lukas was right, I know absolutely fuck all,” Kem muttered to himself. As he left the restaurant, he undid his bow tie and stuffed it into his pocket.

***

“Are you okay, Lize? Kem didn’t mean anything by that, he was just repeating what Lukas said,” Saffia told her, holding her hand tightly.

“I know. It’s just¼ I hate that story. I’m the only person that actively fights against that sort of manipulation in the Committee and yet I’m the only one that the story sticks to. Sometimes I wonder why I bother.”

“Look, forget about it. It was just the paranoid ravings of an old man. Let’s just go to bed and I’ll help you forget about it.”

“You go home, I do have to get something from the office. I left a data crystal that has some stuff I need to read before tomorrow. Stupid of me to leave it there, really.”

“I’ll go and get it for you, you go to bed.”

“No, Saffia, it’s okay. I’ll get it, I know exactly where I put it. I won’t be long,” Lize forced a smile. “You go and get the bed warmed up again. Leave that teddy on, I want to take it off.”

Chapter Ten

An h-tram came to a halt at the station serving Lize’s offices. A door opened silently. The h-tram was strangely silent, not addressing its passenger as he stepped onto the platform. He walked over to the doorway and looked into the retinal scanner. The door slid open.

“Okay,” he whispered, although there was no-one around to hear him. “I’m in.”

He walked through the door and it slid shut behind him.

***

Lize sat in her darkened office, looking out over the view of the city below her, a glass of straight, iced vodka in her hand – her third. Lights shone on every level down to the ground. It looked as if she was looking down a well of stars. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. It was a childish attitude, she knew, but it was just so unfair! She sometimes wished that she had never bothered getting into politics. She would much rather have stayed ignorant like all of those people down there. If only her mother hadn’t met Bateman or if her father hadn’t decided to leave.

She paused, trying to calm all of the thoughts whirling through her head. She must be really pissed if she was thinking this immaturely. If she went on like this, she could quite easily get back to if only she hadn’t been born. Kem hadn’t meant anything by his remark, it was said in innocence, he was merely passing on something he’d heard. It wasn’t his fault that it made her paranoia go into overdrive, especially after that much wine. How may times had she lain in bed over the last seven years, wondering and worrying about exactly that? She had to think that she did it by herself, she refused to acknowledge the possibility of Bateman’s interference, although, looking at the way that he manipulated everything else, she had to admit that it was possible. On days when she was feeling low and nothing seemed to be going right, she sometimes thought that he had to have done something. She knew that was silly - he had never shown any signs of having any use for her, in fact, quite the opposite, he had done his damnedest to sideline her and prevent her from getting anywhere. He wouldn’t have had her elected without some sort of use for her, would he? This was stupid. She was going to send herself crazy if she wasn’t careful. Maybe she should just ask him. She’d contemplated the question for long enough, always finding a reason not to ask. Perhaps she was afraid that she already knew the answer. At least, asking would settle the question for good or ill.

Suddenly, the com-net buzzed. Lize jerked, surprised. Taking another sip of vodka, she told the computer to accept the call. The screen cleared to show Bateman’s face.

“Good evening, Lize. How are you?” He asked, pleasantly.

“Father,” Lize said, coldly. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That’s nice.” He smiled thinly. “About anything in particular?”

“I have an important question,” she said to him. “I want to know if you manipulated the voting results to get me elected?”

“Ha. Of course I did, my dear,” he gave a short laugh. “Don’t tell me that you still think that you were elected on your own?”

“But why? All you’ve ever done is prevent me from doing anything useful.”

“Ha. Well, originally, I had the idea that I could use you as another voice on my team. However, I should have realised that you were too stubborn to follow my orders. Your mother spoilt you. So, until I came up with someone to replace you, I decided that it was better for me to keep you in plain sight so I could keep an eye on you. However, I have decided that you have become too much of a liability, so I’m afraid you are to be removed. And look, here is someone to remove you.”

Lize suddenly felt something sting her neck. She slapped a hand to it and span around in her chair to see Barnes calmly putting a hypo-gun into his pocket.

“Well done, Mr Barnes. That will do the job?” Bateman said to him.

“Oh yes, Mr Bateman. We’ll know if the formula works within a couple of hours.”

“Thank you, Mr Barnes. I will let you know about the Investigator shortly. I may be able to dissuade him from continuing.”

“Are you sure, Mr Bateman?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr Barnes. I know you enjoy your work, but you do realise that if he were to die whilst doing a job for Lize suspicion could be aroused regarding the events surrounding her¼ incapacitation.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lize demanded. “Who is this man and what has he injected me with?”

“Oh shut up, you stupid girl. It’s your own fault. If you had listened to me when I told you not to forget about the New Argo, you would have had another few years. But, as it is, you have forced me to act precipitously. Which, I’m afraid to say, is bad news for you. If I can’t make your Investigator see sense, it will be even worse news for him.”

“Kem? What’s this got to do with him?” Fear tightened its already firm grip around Lize’s heart. “Are you going to hurt Saffia?”

“Oh no. I have plans for her.” Bateman barked another short laugh. “And her lingerie collection.”

The screen went blank. It took Lize a moment to realise that he was gone. She span in her chair, to see Barnes’s back as he walked out of the door.

“Com-net – call the police.”

“I’m sorry, your request is not recognised, please try again,” the AI told her calmly.

“Police. Call the police.”

“I’m sorry. Destination ‘police’ is not recognised. Please try again.”

“Call Kem Logan.

“I’m sorry. Destination ‘Kemlogan’ is not recognised.”

She sat in her chair, seemingly stuck there, terror and desperation paralysing her. She couldn’t go to Saffia, that might endanger her. She had to warn Kem. She had to go to him.

With a jerk that seemed more emotional than physical, she pulled herself up from her chair and ran out of the office.

***

As Kem came out of the h-tram station, he heard someone, a man, call his name. He looked around, trying to locate the source of the shout. He heard it again, coming from a small side-street that led towards a small park area. Cautiously, he walked across to it.

“Hello?” he said.

“Are you Kem Logan?” The voice asked. Kem could just about make out the mans shape, hidden in the shadows.

“That’s me. Can I help you?” Kem replied, cautiously. There was no way he was going down there.

“Why don’t we go and see?” a voice from behind him said.

The owner of that voice was a very tall, muscular, slim man. Kem got the definite feeling that this was someone you didn’t argue with, if you knew what was sensible. Kem was sensible. He didn’t argue. The man gripped Kem by the arm and half led, half dragged him down the side-street. The man hiding in the shadows looked to weigh about the same as his partner, but that was the only point of similarity. He was short and very wide. As he stepped into the light, it shone from the bald dome of his head.

“Look. I don’t want any trouble,” Kem said.

“We do,” the tall one said, as he punched him in the small of the back.

Kem fell to his knees with a groan. The shorter assailant kicked him in the thigh, causing him to fall on to his side, gripping his leg, yelping with pain.

“I thought they said this guy was hard,” the tall one said.

“Yeah. They were wrong, weren’t they?,” the short one replied, kicking Kem in the stomach, knocking all of the wind out of him, just as he was about to cry for help. All that came out was a strangled cry that the two thugs could hardly hear, never mind anyone else.

“We’ve got a message for you,” the short one said. “ Don’t annoy any more old men with your stupid fucking questions.”

“Or next time, we may have to do some permanent damage. Try asking questions with no tongue,” the tall one said, as he aimed a boot into Kem’s face.

Kem fought back, but, once he was on the ground, he knew that he had no chance against his assailants and, finally, he lapsed into unconsciousness.

***

Lize was starting to feel dizzy. That stuff that she had been injected with was starting to affect her. She’d spent the entire journey down the tower shaking, wondering if Barnes would come after her, to make sure that she was dead, but he didn’t seem to be around anywhere. Her other thought was that she should have gone to see a doctor or found a police-drone. But, if Bateman could control her AI and could get an unauthorised person into her offices, who knew what else he could do. Maybe the whole police force would be against her, she couldn’t chance it now. She would get to Kem and then they could work something out together. She would tell him not to involve Saffia any more, to tell her to get away, to go to a different city. He would know how to get her another identity, surely.

She went to a local information terminal and asked it for Kem’s address, then stumbled over to an h-tram stop and clambered awkwardly aboard the waiting vehicle.

Minutes later, she stood outside the apartment block, ringing and ringing his entry-com and getting more and more worried as he failed to answer. Had they already visited him? Was he dead or incapacitated? Her dizziness was increasing, maybe he had succumbed to it. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t answering and she couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Turning, she stumbled away.

“Miss?” a voice asked. “Are you all right?”

She turned to see a police-drone walking over to her.

“Yes, thank you, officer. I’m fine,” she said to it, her paranoia scaling new heights.

“Do you need assistance getting home?”

“No. I’ll be okay. Really. Thanks.”

“Very well, miss,” it said. “If you are sure. If there is a problem, please do not hesitate to contact us.”

It walked off without a backward glance and Lize continued her faltering walk down the street.

***