“But to go from that to… destroying Delphine’s home… nothing he said indicated that he was that angry. I mean, there’s a difference between angry and murderous. Isn’t there?”
“Less than you’d think.”
“Do you think he did it, Prefect? Do you think Dravidian was capable of this?”
“Let’s get back to Delphine. Was she an artist of some kind?”
“Some of us thought so.”
“What kind of work?”
“Sculpture, mostly. Her work was brilliant. She was right to want the best price for it.” Dreyfus thought back to the face he’d seen carved into the rock drifting through the ruins of Ruskin-Sartorious. He couldn’t deny the power of the piece, but there’d been nothing useful about it in the forensics summary.
“Was she working on anything at the time of the attack?”
“Well, not literally, but she’d been busy with a big piece for several months. Part of her Lascaille series.” The young man shrugged.
“It was just a phase she was going through.”
The word ’Lascaille’ meant something to Dreyfus, just as he was sure he’d recognised the face in the rock, but neither shed any immediate light on the other. It was only a work of art, but anything that offered a window into Delphine’s head might be useful in determining her role in events. He made a mental note to look into the matter later.
“How did you come to know her?” he asked.
“Were you married?”
“We were supposed to be married. Ruskin-Sartorious was in financial difficulties and Anthony Theobald thought he could solve the Bubble’s problems by marrying his daughter off to the son of another habitat. He already had ties to Macro Hektor Industriaclass="underline" we’d installed his anti-collision defences and he was in debt to us. I was the scion of one of the most powerful family lines within Industrial. Negotiations took place behind our backs. Delphine and I didn’t like that very much.” He smiled sadly.
“But that didn’t stop us from falling in love for real.”
“So Anthony Theobald got what he wanted?”
“Not exactly. My family had expectations that I’d become another partner in the defence-design business. Unfortunately, I had other plans. I decided to leave Industrial, severing ties to both my family and the business, and join Delphine in the Bubble. I’d become inspired by her art, convinced that I might have something of the same genius lying untapped within myself. It took me about three months to realise that I had no undeveloped talent whatsoever.”
“Takes some people a lifetime.”
“But I did realise that I could help Delphine. I decided to become her agent, publicist, broker, whatever you want to call it. That’s why I was so reluctant to accept Dravidian’s offer.”
“I take it Anthony Theobald wasn’t exactly thrilled by either course of events: you severing ties with your rich family, and then souring the Dravidian deal.”
“I sensed some issues there, yes.”
“Do you think he was angry enough to want to kill his own daughter and family?”
“No. Anthony Theobald and I might not have seen eye to eye, but I knew he loved his daughter. He’d have played no part in this.” Vernon Tregent looked intently at Dreyfus.
“Why look for another angle, though, when you already have Dravidian?”
“I’m just making sure I don’t miss anything. If you think of something, you’ll be sure to tell me, won’t you?”
“Certainly.” But then a shadow of suspicion crossed the young man’s face.
“I’d have to know I could trust you, of course.”
“Why wouldn’t you trust me?”
“How do I know that you’re really a prefect, to begin with, or that Ruskin-Sartorious really has been destroyed? For all I know I could have been kidnapped by data-pirates. I don’t have any evidence that this is Panoply.”
“Nothing I can show you or tell you will make any difference to that.”
Vernon pondered that for a long while before responding.
“I know. And right now I’m not sure I’ve seen or heard enough to be able to make a sound judgement.”
“If you know anything that could assist in the investigation, you should tell me now.”
“I want to talk to Delphine.”
“Out of the question. You’re both material witnesses. I can’t have your individual testimonies invalidated by cross-contamination.”
“We’re in love, Prefect.”
“Your human counterparts were in love. There’s a difference.”
“You really don’t believe in us, do you?”
“Nor do you.”
“But Delphine does. She believes, Prefect. That’s all that matters to me.” Vernon’s eyes seemed to shine right through him.
“Crush me, by all means. But don’t crush Delphine.”
“Hold invocation,” Dreyfus said.
When the room was empty, Dreyfus retrieved the compad from between his knees and began to organise his thoughts about Vernon, using the ancient stylus entry mode that he favoured. Yet something stilled his hand, however: some tingle of disquiet that he could not ignore. He’d interviewed beta-level simulations on many previous occasions, and he considered himself well versed in their ways. He had never sensed a soul behind the clockwork, and he would not have said that he sensed one now. But something was different. He had never before felt that he had to earn the trust of a beta-level, nor had he ever considered what the earning of that trust might signify.
One trusted machines. But one never expected machines to return the favour.
“Invoke Delphine Ruskin-Sartorious,” Dreyfus said.
The woman assumed solidity in the interview room. She was taller than Dreyfus, dressed in a simple white smock and trousers, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the trousers rolled to just below the knee, flat white slippers on her feet, arms crossed. She was leaning to one side, weight on one leg, as if waiting for something to happen. She had silver bracelets on her wrists, but no other ornamentation. Her heart-shaped face was plain without being ugly. She had simple, minimalist features, unadorned with cosmetics. Her eyes were a very pale sea-green. Her hair was scrunched back from her brow, tied with what looked like a dirty rag. A few coiled strands had escaped to frame the side of her face.
“Delphine?” Dreyfus asked.
“Yes. Where am I?”
“You’re in Panoply. I’m afraid I have very bad news. Ruskin-Sartorious has been destroyed.”
Delphine nodded, as if the news was something she’d been quietly dreading.
“I asked your colleague about Vernon. She wouldn’t tell me anything, but I read between the lines. I knew it had to be something bad. Did Vernon—”
“Vernon died. So did everyone else. I’m sorry. But we managed to recover Vernon’s beta-level.”
She closed her eyes briefly, reopened them.
“I want to speak to him.”
“That isn’t possible.” Some impulse made Dreyfus add: “Not right now, at any rate. Maybe later. But I need to talk to you alone first. What happened to the Bubble doesn’t look like an accident. If it was deliberate, it ranks as one of the worst crimes committed since the Eighty. I want to see justice served.
But to do that I need the full cooperation of all surviving witnesses.”
“You said no one survived.”
“All we have are three beta-levels. I think I’ve begun to piece together what happened, but your testimony will count just as much as the others.”
“If I can help, I will.”
“I need to know what went on right at the end. I understand you were hoping to sell some of your artwork to a third party.”
“Dravidian, yes.”
“Tell me everything you know about Dravidian, starting from the beginning. Then tell me about the art.”
“Why would you care about the art?”
“It’s connected to the crime. I feel I need to know about it.”