Martin fell quiet and the grimace became a frown. “It is not legal. I’ve never done anything illegal.”
Carol nodded. “Subtle distinction for the prosecutors and lawyers.” She turned away. “I don’t want to lead you astray, Martin.”
“Too late. I’m led.” He sighed. “And not by you. But I wonder what’s in it for you.”
“Betty-Ann was a sweet girl. How could he do it?”
“You want the same thing as Albigoni.”
Carol glanced over her shoulder at him. “Close.”
The feeble dream of rekindled romance faded. No returning to that idyll. He was means not end.
“You’re not much of a…I forget her name. Madeline? Marguerite. Faust’s lust.”
“Surely you’ve forgotten all that by now.” She looked at him steadily. Olympian; but would another man think so? Perhaps merely intent, focused on his reactions yet revealing none of her own.
Martin averted from her look. “What’s the next step?”
“I don’t know,” Carol said. “You’ve put your card message through to Lascal?”
“Not yet.”
“Then do it.”
“You’re very cold,” he said softly.
“I want to go in with you when you probe,” Carol said. “I want to be on the team.”
“You’re prejudiced.”
“I never met Goldsmith. I wouldn’t know him if I saw him.”
“He killed your patient.”
“I can handle that.”
“I don’t know that you can,” Martin said, finding his own tone chilly. “Besides, it’s been a long time since I worked with you. You don’t know the new routines.”
“Oddly enough, I do. Many of them. I’ve been probing a mentality here for the last two years.”
“A mentality? What do you mean by that?”
“It’s no secret. Mind Design is working on an artificial complete human personality. Jill. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure—it’s working with the AXIS people and doing an AXIS Simulation. The five master programmers have downloaded large segments of their memories and personalities into a central processor, and I’ve probed those records.”
Martin laughed. “That’s a controlled situation. It’s not the same.”
“Not so controlled. We’ve had our problems, and I’ve solved them. I’ve probably spent more time in the Country than you have. Admitted it’s not the same but it’s certainly the equivalent of a high level training course.”
“What are they doing: mixing and matching?” Martin asked.
“Synthesis and pattern imposition. The programmer’s patterns will fade and the new personality will take on its own character. They’re close to getting what they want but my work is finished for now. I can take a furlough. I’m telling them I have a therapy group in Taos to work with. High level expansion therapy. Better living through better minds.”
Martin remembered Carol as very intelligent and a meticulous planner but she had become more calculating and manipulative. “Who’s Fausting whom?” he asked.
“I’ve got to go now.” She stood. “Call Lascal. You won’t regret it.” She smiled. “Piece of cake.”
“You know better than that.”
“The Mount Everest of all probes, then. Probe a poet who murders. Doesn’t that fascinate you? What kind of Country does Goldsmith have? Is he in hell? We might solve the problem of the origin of evil. Like finding the source of the Nile or the human soul.”
Martin stood up, feeling punchy.
“Let me show you out,” Carol said, taking his arm.
Raise your head Mother of the single hanging breast Raise that great slumbering Egypt and look around What you have done to your children? are you ashamed? You did not cry out when they were ripped from you Did you know what would come Withered bones walking you lift your skirts no shade even And then you give a plague of love Sweep, harvester; half are dead, Mother. Your breast still hangs and on its tip, a drop of bitter white milk, white milk on a black breast Sweep, harvester Pink milk, red.
14
Eleven thirty morning in her temporary quarters Mary Choy received the Goldsmith apartment analysis through secured pd optic on her slate. She scrolled through it with thoughts half focused, drinking strong tea and thinking about Hispaniola, formerly Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Colonel Sir John Yardley. Trying not to think about the early morning jiltz and the hellcrowns; poor nasty Lon Joyce’s scream upon waking.
She closed her eyes then looked up from the analysis and frowned, angry that her concentration had weakened. The stark cot room offered pastel blue gray walls forest green carpet bed already made sheets quarter bouncing tight. Mary touched stylus to lips.
How it was done. Goldsmith (90% probability) waited in outer room having invited guests to arrive at fifteen-minute intervals and stressing punctuality. Mary read facsimiles of the invitations nine cards hand delivered by special courier one young acolyte escaping (reference vid interview). Party promised unveiling reading of new work from the master and celebration of three birthdays among the acolytes sharing with Goldsmith.
Goldsmith’s birthday. She had not known that until now. For some reason it shocked her and she had to take a deep breath.
Goldsmith (90% probability) led them one at a time to sitting room concealed weapon assumed but Mary flashed on him actually revealing the large Bowie knife gold pommel and ivory grip gleaming steel blade a century old owned by his father who used it to defend himself against “honkie” cops (reference ninth acolyte vid interview). Reached around gripping one shoulder with free hand as if in fatherly hug from behind severing long list of essential plumbing blood pumping heart-surprise out and away. Goldsmith likely not spattered perhaps merely an arm to be rinsed and cleaned for the next victim. Abattoir efficiency. Strike them down one by one like steers.
She closed her eyes again and held them closed brows drawing together lids flicking. Opened them, viewed on.
Diagrams graphs simulations of supporting evidence from various criminal techs forensics experts, bugs on tracks, arbeiters, assayer prefreeze heat pattern photos giving four dimensional track of warm bodies in motion, bodies falling arcs of warm liquid (splash analysis from walls), each victim’s blood layered on in multiple colors assault by assault, time markers for soaking in, cooling, clotting, cell necrosis and bacterial growth, CG simulations of bodies dragged and heaped up in corners, icon clocks ticking precise time of death in each body outline, muscular activity before death (this an unnecessary detail but provided for thoroughness) and discharge of body fluids (agonal relaxation) besides blood mostly limited by clothing; cooling of bodies (details on cell necrosis, internal decay, bacterial growth in intestines)
And so on. She grew almost ill.
Mary turned to the analysis of human organic detritus in carpet and floors. All major deposits partially digested by carpet within past forty eight hours—epidermal keratin hair artificial fiber Trelon Chinoi Nylon Brazil Silk, saliva mucus semen (masturbation; no correlate or mixed sexual fluids from other male or female)—belonged to Goldsmith. He lived alone or very nearly so.
Plumbing: shower and bathtub revealed no nonGoldsmith cell traces or hairs. No drop-by lovers or intimates privileged to bathe. Sink, Cendarion toilet ash and analysis of nonGoldsmith detritus indicated Goldsmith lived alone, had frequent (two to three times weekly) social occasions involving eight to twelve visitors lasting less than two hours. Distribution of detritus: 34% identified (overlap) of which 35% is from victims, 66% unidentified (IDs in progress for all traces laid down within period of thirty days prior); conclusion: no longterm residents besides Goldsmith.