He put his helmet back on and turned around. He wasn’t alone in the corridor. The workers from the Assembly had all followed him out. Their names flashed red on his screen, each tagged with a charge of ‘dereliction of the workplace’. At the bottom a counter ticked upwards, recording the minutes of production wasted as they stood there watching him. No, not just watching, they were filming and uploading. He checked the newsfeeds. They were all covering this. Even the election broadcasts had stopped.
Ely knew that what he did and said next would determine whether Cornwall would win the election, and thus determine the fate of those few who made it to Mars.
“Back to work. Production can not stop,” he said, imbuing his voice with all the authority he could muster.
“Was that him? Was that the murderer?” one of the workers asked. None of them made any effort to leave.
Ely hesitated before answering, but only briefly. “It was,” he said. “But it was a woman. Not a man. Following a lead, I tracked her to…” He was about to say Lounge-Two, but corrected himself in time. “The Sailor’s Rest. There was a chase, she died.”
There was a general murmur of acceptance from the small crowd. Some started muttering a quiet commentary, others typed quickly on their wristboards. Within moments, a dozen new articles appeared, all with headlines on the variation of ‘murderer dies in dramatic chase’.
“What about the elevator?” a worker asked.
That was a good question. Ely thought quickly.
“The elevator was destroyed in order to prevent far greater destruction to the Tower itself. It’s all over. Get back to work.”
And this time they obeyed, backing away slowly in case there was some final piece of drama that they could record. Ely waited until they were gone then headed to the next elevator along. The door wouldn’t open to his command.
“Control? What did she do? I can’t get the elevator door open.”
“That was me. I’ve shut them all down whilst I run a diagnostic on all the essential systems. You’ll have to use the ladders.”
Wearily he walked along to the nearest access hatch.
“Vox, do you have any idea who she was?” he asked, as he began the long climb down.
“She’s the killer.”
“I mean what’s her name? Who was she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you get a good image of her face?”
“Dozens.”
“And does she come up in the system?”
“Not yet.”
“I need to be sure of this. Check to see if anyone is off-net. And run a check on the other Towers as well. We need to know who she was.”
“I just told you that. She was the killer.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I just watched you tell everyone. It’s all over the newsfeeds. Everyone’s seen it. The impact woke up most of the people who were asleep. They logged in and checked. Everyone knows, Ely. You caught the killer.”
The elevators ran from Level Four up to the top of the Tower. On Level Three, where Ely stood a few minutes later, was the access door to the elevator’s machinery.
The door had been blown open by the force of the impact. The walls around it were buckled. The corridor leading up to it, however, was already clean.
Hemispherical drones, each the size of his fist, were swarming around the debris. Some were breaking up the larger chunks whilst others hoovered up the smaller pieces before dashing back to their crevices to empty their load into a recycling chute.
He tapped out a command, and they stopped moving. Careful not to step on any of them, he made his way to the door. He peered through the gap.
The woman’s mangled corpse lay motionless amidst tangled wreckage now coated in blood and brain. Ely relaxed. A tension he’d not realised had been there disappeared as he saw that she was, definitely, dead. But that tension soon came back. She hadn’t acted alone. What part in her crimes did the forty-seven suspects play? Ely tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Despite his intentions, he’d followed Arthur’s advice. He’d found the killer. She was dead. He’d done it all publicly. Everyone was talking about it. Except it did matter. The investigation wasn’t over. It couldn’t be, not until he had all the answers.
“Vox, can you reprogramme the drones to collect evidence?”
“What for?”
This time he remembered that the call would be monitored and listened to. He thought before he spoke.
“I need to know if the killer was in league with anyone else. There are still those forty-seven suspects, and perhaps there might be some link between her and one of them.”
“Well, what is it you want the drones to actually do?”
“We could start with some of her blood. Run her DNA through the system. She might have wiped her own records, but she wouldn’t have erased that of her relatives. That would get us a name.”
“Well, all right. Anything else?”
“Um. No, not… wait!” he stared down at the body. It was a long shot, but he thought he saw something that might, just might, prove Chancellor Stirling’s involvement. “I want a sample of her clothing.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s the same type of jumpsuit everyone else is wearing. If she lived outside the system, where did she get it from? It had to come from a printer, so which one?”
“I don’t see how that will help, but okay.” She clicked off.
A few seconds later, whilst he was still looking at the body, a light blinked on his display. He had an incoming call from Councillor Cornwall.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, taking the call. At his feet two drones began to move over the pile of wreckage towards the corpse.
“Well done, Constable. I saw what happened. Well done.”
“Thank you sir.”
“You found the killer. Not only found her, but dealt with her.”
“Sir, I—”
“And, of course, I was wrong,” the Councillor said, warmly. “I thought the killer was a man, and I said as much. I’ll admit I made a mistake. It does happen, you know.”
That was a joke, Ely thought. “Yes, sir,” he said, forcing a smile for the camera a few metres away through which he assumed the Councillor would be watching.
“You caught the killer, and managed it just in time. Well done. The election is ours, Constable. Ours.”
Ely noticed the emphasis on that last word.
“Ours, sir?” he dutifully asked.
“Yours and mine. It was very dramatic. Everyone is watching it. I can see here that even those who are meant to be asleep are glued to their displays. Well, a few hours of production lost are to be expected under the circumstances.”
“Sir?” Ely couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.
“Oh, come now, Constable. I may preach ‘Production First’, but there are other aspects to life that are just as important as labour, and this night’s work is very definitely a cause for celebration. Have you considered a career in politics?”
“I was thinking, perhaps, one day—”
“Well, consider it now. I need good men at my side. There are… details that have not yet been made public. The times are changing and we need citizens of stern resolve, unafraid to act and to do so decisively. We need people like you, Ely. I’m nominating you to go on the ballot.”
“Sir…” And suddenly Ely didn’t know how to fake surprise. Fortunately, Cornwall seemed to have no interest in what Ely actually had to say.
“No, no arguments,” the Councillor said. “You are just what the City needs, and I need people I can rely on in the days to come. I’ve already told my people to get the word out. Everyone who votes for me will vote for you, and that will be nearly everyone in the City. Congratulations.”