Alien Eyes (5 page)

“I hesitate—” Angel Eyes fluttered a fin. “I am not what you would call a source of … objectivity? Yes. Objectivity. I have memories, so many memories, of bad times, and bad days.”

“Are you talking around the subject of cho invasions?” Enid West said. “Do you think these invasions, these death hits, are a form of political retaliation?”

Angel Eyes faced the camera. “Is not proven such incidents are form of cho. The killing of Elaki students and host families, chemaki groupings, Mother-One and pouchlings. This is beyond any cho. This is the work of those who fear and hate.”

“Do you think the Izicho have anything to do with these invasions?”

“Indeed, I do not know. That, of course, is the problem. And if Izicho investigate Izicho, if police investigate police, who will ever know?”

“Who indeed?” The camera closed on Enid West. “The Izicho, who are, in effect, Elaki secret police, would or could not send a representative to us today, on the grounds that information on their organization compromises agents in the field. We do, however, have Commander Angelo Ogden of the Saigo City PD here to give his opinion of the ongoing problem of these death invasions. Commander Ogden?”

“Yes, Enid.”

David chewed his bottom lip. There was a bad taste in his mouth.

The man loved the camera, that much was clear. And, David had to admit, Angelo had a certain presence—accumulated, David thought sourly, from years of taking public credit for other people's work. Ogden was upper management at its best—one of those wily old survivors who worked the beginning of projects, when there was money and excitement, and rode out on a wave of promotion before reality hit, somehow managing to land on the tag end of another successful project, just in time to sop up the praise and kudos that rained on everyone except those who did the work.

David looked at Ogden's thick head of silver-white hair, the expensive suit.

“Have a heart attack,” Mel muttered. “Massive.”

Enid West was leaning forward. “First, Commander, do you think the invasions are politically motivated?”

Ogden shifted sideways. “There are indications that this is a possibility. At this point in time, I can't say for sure. We're following leads. It's a new crime in Saigo City—”

“The first was about two years ago, wasn't it?”

“Eighteen months.”

“
Nineteen
months,” David said.

West leaned forward. “And so far there have been three arrests.”

“No arrests.” Ogden leaned back in his chair. “We've had several people questioned, we're following leads, but—”

“Would you say any arrests are imminent?”

“No, I would not.”

“Commander, are you looking into the possibility that these murders are committed by Izicho—Elaki secret police—to keep Elaki in line?”

“We're looking into every possibility. Every reasonable possibility. Please keep in mind that the victims are human, as well as Elaki.”

“Don't most of the victims—human and Elaki—have some kind of tie to the Guardians? Don't you find it interesting that these invasions began eighteen months ago? About the same time Angel Eyes became a lecturer at the Edmund University School of Diplomacy?”

“It's an area we're looking into. One of many. I can't compromise the investigation by leaking sensitive information.”

“But don't you have Elaki working on these cases? Elaki Izicho secret police? Elaki with a vested interest in—”

“In what, Ms. West? There's no proof, no hard evidence, that Elaki Izicho are responsible for the invasions. We're bending over backward to have a clean investigation. We've just now added Elaki officers whose politics are actually pro Guardian, or who
have
no politics, and who are unquestionably
not
a part of the Izicho, or
any
police or government hierarchy.”

“So you
don't
trust your own people?”

Ogden smiled. “That's a cheap shot, Enid. Certainly I do. They wouldn't be there if I didn't. I'm new to this investigation, but it's going to be clean and it's going to be tough. The mayor has promised funds and support. So long as I get those funds, so long as I get that support, we'll get the job done.”

“Commander, how can you run a clean shop, how can we, the people, be assured of a clean shop, when you call media blackout during a case? Just last night an Elaki Mother-One was found inside her home with four dead pouchlings. Why did you shut us out?”

“That was a piss poor decision made by a captain I will not name, but whom I assure you has been reprimanded.”

David opened his mouth, then shut it. He looked at Halliday.

Ogden leaned forward. “And I will remind you the blackout was temporary, and that the captain himself reversed the order.”

“Once the action was over.”

“The officer on the scene makes the decision. That's standard operating procedure. If he makes a wrong one, we talk about it. We talked about it. He wasn't in my jurisdiction yesterday. He is today. It won't happen again.”

“Word is this Mother-One killed her own pouchlings.”

“Yes.”

“And yet.” West cocked her head sideways. “Here is one more incident involving an Elaki with ties to the Guardians.” She turned to Angel Eyes. “Did you know this Mother-One? I believe her name is Dahmi?”

Angel Eyes was silent a long moment. “Yes,” she said finally, softly.

“What kind of Mother-One was she?”

“I did not know her well. But she seemed quite devoted, quite loving.”

“How do
you
explain what happened?”

Angel Eyes made an odd gesture with her fins. “Who is to judge? Who is to know the mind of a Mother-One most desperate? I can only ask that Elaki and human please to think carefully, and with compassion, toward a Mother-One in trouble. And, I can only say, it is my sincere hope that her association with me, her attendance and interest in my lectures, had nothing to do with what happen yesterday.”

SEVEN

“Roger.” David looked steadily at Halliday. “here, or in private?”

“Meeting's over.” Halliday stood up. “Pete, take care of Ash, Walker, and Thinker. Introduce them around. Find them some space.”

Della picked up the scales String had shed near her coffee cup. “You want these back?”

String twisted toward her. “Odd request. Granted.” He glided out of the room.

“David?” Halliday said. “My office.”

“Give him hell,” Mel said, under his breath.

David followed him out.

Halliday settled behind his desk, pulled the tie loose from his collar, and tossed it over the lamp shade.

“Sit down, David.”

“I don't think so.”

Halliday cocked his head sideways.

“You covered for me,” David said. “Why?”

“It was a bad call, David. Under the circumstances. We're in deep right now. It changes things.”

“The pouchlings might have been alive. There was no way we could know. It is
contraindicated
—look it up in the manual, Roger—
contraindicated
, in a hostage situation, for the perps to watch what's going on on
TV
.”

“This time—”

“This time
hell
. It's not done. You let them blackmail us into doing it, on the basis of political climate or a goddamn presidential decree, and you
jeopardize hostages
. I stand by that. When you cover for me, I
can't
stand by that.”

“Exactly,” Halliday said. “If you want to discuss it, sit.”

David sat. He folded his arms, one shoulder higher than the other.

“I'm an administrator, David, and a cop. Most of the fieldwork falls to you and the rest of the team. My job is to field the bureaucratic crap, so you can do your job, you follow? I'm not here to see you punch your time clock. I'm here to see that people like Ogden don't tie you up in red tape and politics so you
can't
do what you do best.

“And you're not in his league, David.
I'm
not in his league. It would have made him look sweet in that interview to be able to say the cop that called the blackout has been fired. And he'd do it. And justify it with the politics, and never give a flying fuck about your years with the department, your depth and breadth of experience, your wife, your kids, or your state of indebtedness. You hear what I'm saying?”

“Why didn't he fire
you
?”

“Because I'm a captain. Some ways I'm easier to hit, some ways I'm harder. And I got friends.
This time
he didn't push. I figure he's biding his time. He may get me yet, before this is over. Depends on how the investigation goes.”

David frowned. He thought of walking out the door. “I don't like the Elaki.”

“Walker, Ash, and Thinker?”

“They're here to investigate
us
while we investigate.”

“They're here to assist.”

“That so? What are their qualifications? Past police work?”

“None.”

“Law enforcement degrees?”

“Elaki don't have degrees.”

“They don't have their
street
degrees, Roger. They're not like String, they don't have street eyes, they don't have instinct, they're not
cops
.”

“Then train them.”

“
Train
… in the middle of an investigation like this?”

“I got no choice, David. If I got no choice,
you
got no choice.”

David looked through the door, clenched and unclenched his fist.

The memory of Dahmi—netted, restrained, mourning her pouchlings—was strong in his mind. And the last cho invasion. He could see it at night when he closed his eyes. He could smell it.

He leaned back in his chair.

“If there's any way, David, any way at all. I'll jerk a knot in Ogden's tail.”

“There won't be a way,” David said. “I've been this road before.”

EIGHT

There were three reasons why they didn't wind up at the usual bar or taco stand. They wanted privacy from other cops, the lunch crowds were thicker than usual, and Della had a craving for frozen yogurt.

David sat on a spindly metal chair that had a heart-shaped yellow back and a butter-soft cushion.

“This chair was made for smaller butts than mine,” Mel said.

Della sat happily across from him, dipping a long-handled spoon into a waffle cone full of papaya yogurt. String stood beside the table, swaying back and forth. He crunched an empty cone, and pieces fell off and landed in his scales.

“I just love how you said that, David.” Della scooped a large hunk of yogurt up in her spoon. She lowered her voice, sounding gruff. “‘You cover for me, and I
can't
stand behind it.'”

David finished off his coffee and set the cup down on the table. “How'd you know what I said?”

Mel looked at String, who looked at Della, who looked at Mel. David cocked his head sideways, remembering how they'd been huddled together at Mel's desk, pretending not to notice when he came out.

“Could everybody in the precinct hear us?”

“Ah, no,” Mel said. “Della only told
us
what was going on.”

“How did she know?” David looked at Della, who was rotating the waffle cone in her hands, steadily nibbling the edges.

“She can read the silent words,” String said.

“What?”

Mel took a slurp of his yogurt shake and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She reads lips.”

David leaned back in his chair. He picked his coffee cup up, saw it was empty, set it down.

“Tell me.” He looked at String. “Why does an Elaki Mother-One kill her pouchlings? What makes it happen?”

“It does not happen,” String said.

“It happened.” Mel looked at Della's cone. “That papaya any good?”

“String,” David said. “People,
humans
, love their children. But strong as that is, people hurt their children. Sometimes they're evil. Sometimes they're reacting to pressures. And sometimes—sometimes they are so deeply disturbed, they do it for reasons no sane person can understand.”

Mel waved a hand. “We get them like they go paranoid delusional. Like—you remember that one drowned her baby, David? And to hear her talk, she loved the kid. Loved it so much she killed it, so it wouldn't have to go to junior high school, I think she said. Isn't that what she said?”

“Elaki
not
like human.” String puffed his belly slits and grew bigger. “Elaki not go out of the bonkers.”

“Out of the bonkers?” Mel mouthed at David.

“We do not have the child abuse, as you have it. It is not to be a part of our society.”

“You said before.” David frowned. “Something about her chemaki. She was without her—”

“A chemaki is the sexual unit,” String said.

The man sitting at the next table stopped eating.

“Five, six, maybe seven Elaki. Male and female. Usually four male to two female. This grouping is more than just the line copulation. We are not to be like the married the one on one. But the chemaki forms the base set of support. All to look out for the other. Pouchlings raised by the Mother-One, who becomes … um … there is no human word. Bepouched?”

“Impouchnated,” Mel said.

“Impouchnated,” String said thoughtfully. “The female can choose to become impouchnated at her own … um … timing? Timing. But all of chemaki responsible. Males to keep lookout. Available for whenever help necessary. Other females, too. All do not choose to bear young. But always one female in chemaki will. Choose to bear young. And that female is the … the spart? Spark. The beginning. Is hard to explain.”

David folded his arms, one shoulder higher than the other. “If Dahmi was separated from her chemaki. Could she be under so much pressure she would snap?”