By the time Luc had ascended in a working car to the two-hundredth floor and climbed up the last thirty-one flights, his skin was slick with sweat and he was breathing hard. It took him longer than half an hour since he also had to negotiate his way past a series of security mechants placed in the stairwells. A final mechant, decorated in the distinctive livery of the Temur Council, led him into a small, derelict-looking apartment.
De Almeida was there in the flesh, although Father Cheng and Bailey Cripps themselves were only present as data-ghosts. Cheng turned to regard him as he entered, and for a moment Luc caught his look of cold contempt, quickly replaced by one of jovial avuncularity.
‘Mr Gabion,’ said Cheng, his voice booming in the confines of the tiny living-room. ‘It appears we’ve found our killer and saved you a great deal of bother.’
‘Take a look at this,’ said de Almeida, gesturing to the mechant that had led him inside.
The mechant projected an image of a crude-looking device, blown up until it was nearly a metre across. Luc recognized it as a home-brew CogNet earpiece, a customized unit typically used for circumventing low-grade security networks – part of a thief’s arsenal, in other words. Black Lotus often made use of operatives skilled at constructing such devices.
Luc glanced between de Almeida and Cheng. ‘All this tells us is that Falla probably made his living as a thief,’ he said.
<Zelia,> he heard Cheng script. <You really shouldn’t have brought him here.>
<I have your permission to include him in the investigation, Father Cheng. You agreed, remember?> she replied, her expression defiant.
<Yes, but it appears our investigation has come to a pleasingly rapid end. That makes his presence no longer necessary.>
Luc kept his gaze fixed on the projected image, terrified that Cheng and Cripps might realize he could hear their every word.
‘Mr Gabion,’ said de Almeida, nodding at the projection, ‘Father Cheng believes Falla must have used this device to pass through the Hall of Gates.’
‘Case closed, really,’ said Cripps. ‘That thing’s crammed with decrypted security data for getting past the White Palace’s defences. There’s even data proving he was present on Vanaheim at the time of Vasili’s murder.’
Luc glanced at de Almeida. Her jaw was clenched, like she was on the verge of going ballistic.
‘If you have the actual device here, can I take a closer look?’ asked Luc, gesturing to the projection.
Cripps started to say something. ‘I don’t—’
‘Of course,’ de Almeida snapped before he could finish. ‘Here.’ She reached out a hand to the mechant providing the projection, and it dropped the original device into her open palm. It was, as Luc had expected, quite tiny, smaller even than a fingernail.
She passed it to Luc, who studied it closely, ignoring the glare on Cripps’ face. When he tried to access it through his own CogNet link, he found to his surprise that it was quite easy. The crude device’s temporal archives proved to be not only accessible, but also dated back months. It didn’t take him more than a minute to locate data inside the tiny machine that apparently proved the device and its owner had indeed passed through the Hall of Gates.
He shot a furtive glance at de Almeida, and saw her looking back, her jaw clenched beneath angry eyes.
<The data on that thing’s been faked,> she sent.
It took Luc a moment to understand she was addressing him directly. He continued to study the device in his palm without replying.
<Our conversation is private,> de Almeida continued, guessing why he was suddenly reluctant to respond. She was looking in the other direction from him now, towards the shattered window. <Neither Cheng nor Cripps will know we’re scripting, unless I tell them or you make it obvious. Now tell me if you agree with my conclusion.>
<It could have been faked,> Luc sent back, turning the device over in his hands. <That doesn’t mean it was.>
The casing had been crudely soldered, as if it had been built in a hurry. In that respect it was entirely unlike similar devices he had encountered in the past, which had been more sophisticated in appearance, often indistinguishable from commercial CogNet units.
‘Do we know for a fact that Falla killed himself ?’
Luc glanced up. De Almeida had directed her question at Cripps.
<I think it’s fairly evident he did precisely that rather than be caught,> Cripps scripted back to her.
<Speak out loud,> de Almeida sent back. <Let Gabion hear you, or switch to open broadcast.>
<I don’t think I—>
‘If you will, Bailey,’ Cheng commented.
Cripps looked like he’d eaten something sour. ‘Clearly Falla killed himself,’ he said out loud. ‘He must have had a tip-off that SecInt were on their way here.’
Luc stepped across to the shattered window at the room’s far end and looked out. The ground was an unpleasantly long way down.
‘But a tip-off from who?’ asked Luc, stepping back from the window.
‘Black Lotus, of course,’ Cripps barked. ‘He decided to end his life rather than face punishment for his actions.’
‘Or possibly, someone connected to Black Lotus made that decision for him,’ suggested Cheng. ‘It would certainly make it harder to track down whomever was responsible for giving him his orders.’
‘It’s looking very open and shut to me,’ Cripps declared. ‘His connections with Black Lotus are extensively documented.’
‘Finding that device doesn’t prove he killed Vasili, let alone somehow found his way through the Hall of Gates!’ de Almeida protested.
‘No,’ said Cheng, ‘but that machine’s own internal records strongly suggest he did.’
‘Those records,’ she said through clenched teeth, ‘could have been faked.’
‘Oh no, Zelia,’ said Cripps, one corner of his mouth curling up. ‘On the contrary, I already checked the White Palace’s own security records. I found anomalies in them, corresponding to the times and dates inside Falla’s crude little toy.’
‘But why on Earth would Black Lotus want him to kill Vasili?’ she demanded.
Cripps regarded her with a pained expression, as if confronted by an imbecile. ‘Surely, Zelia, that should be clear. This was a tit-for-tat move, a strike against the Council in return for Winchell Antonov’s death. As far as I’m concerned, you can stop playing detective now. We’ll arrange an immediate inquest and have a decision based on the evidence within the next few days. After that, we can concern ourselves with other questions – such as who might have helped Falla carry out his crime.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said de Almeida. ‘Are you telling me that you think Vasili was killed as revenge for our stopping Antonov? He hasn’t been at the heart of Council politics for more than a century. What would be the point? You, on the other hand,’ she said, practically spitting the words at Cripps, ‘would make a far more worthwhile target, especially since you spend so much of your time away from Vanaheim. Why, if Falla found it so easy to pass through the Hall of Gates, would he fly halfway around Vanaheim just to kill a minor and half-forgotten member of the Eighty-Five, when he could have stuck around Liebenau and killed someone a lot more important?’
Cripps shrugged. ‘You heard Joe: there’ll be an enquiry to figure out the hows and the whys. Right now the most appalling thing about all this is that it’s all so easily preventable.’ His voice began to rise. ‘That means someone hasn’t been doing their job, Zelia. If they had, Sevgeny might still be alive today.’