Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (23 page)

Dorian chuckled. “Not much of a retirement option, I bet.”

A minor course adjustment brought the nose of the car around to point at the Lyris corporate campus. The main building stood 106 stories tall, flanked on either side by a ninety-story sub tower. Curved arches connected them, giving the trio the appearance of a central building hugging its siblings close. All three gleamed in the early morning sun, slabs of mirror against the sky. She circled, looking for the telltale flashing yellow that identified an entrance for hovercar parking. On the back of the left tower, a heavy armored door occupied a space three car-widths across at the center of four rotating warning lights. Kirsten pulled up, front bumper two feet from the door, and looked around for some way to open it.

An orb droid the size of a basketball floated up to the driver window.

“Open the door, please. Agent Wren, Division 0. I’m here in regards to the shooting last night.”

Lens covered the majority of the orb’s face, trails of distant reflected ad-bots crawled over the curvature. Amethyst light glowed from deep within its core, oscillating brightness in time with a placid voice. “No employee identification detected. Entry to the Lyris Corporation employee parking area is restricted to Lyris Corporation employees. Please clear the area.”

Why do they have to program these things to sound so damn arrogant?
“That’s because I’m not an employee. I’m with the police.”

“Please stand by.”

Kirsten scowled at the fluttering purple light. Absent of any emotion, the voice taunted her with a blasé attitude, indifferent to five people dying here less than eight hours ago.

“I am sorry, miss. The police have already investigated the scene. I cannot”―the orb shuddered, the inner light turned orange―“I’m so sorry, Agent Wren,” said a different voice. Natural, human sounding. “Stupid automatic programs, one moment please.”

The yellow lights around the door spun faster and a few red ones came on. Seconds later, the massive portal split into four segments, each sliding into one of the corners. Kirsten nosed the car through the gap before they had opened all the way. The orb followed as the same human voice shouted over the hydraulic whine of the multi-ton door.

“Please follow me. Use the emergency parking area.”

It zipped ahead, over the hood, and zoomed down a lane between rows of parked cars. Other droids lazed about through the air, occasionally cleaning a windshield or collecting a discarded cup.

“Free car wash while you work, nice place.” Dorian looked out the window on his side as a shoebox-sized robot sprayed foam over the front of a parked car.

Kirsten navigated the columns, chasing the little sphere until it came to a halt amid a section of plastisteel floor covered in crisscrossing reflective yellow paint. The way it wobbled made her imagine it waving “over here” with an arm it did not have.

“So sorry again for the bother; they skimped on the sentry programs.” The orb floated over to her as she got out.

“I keep getting the feeling corporations think they’re above the law. Haven’t been getting a lot of respect lately.” Kirsten wanted to slam the gull-wing door, but the pneumatics absorbed her anger.

“Please understand, it was a program error. I’m David Ling, head of security. I took over this bot as soon as I became aware of what was going on. Please follow it; I’ll meet you in person at the desk.”

The orb’s inner light returned to violet. She wondered if that meant it would be annoying again. It did not speak; only rotated in place and floated off at the pace of a brisk walk. Kirsten followed it over a small curb, to a glass-walled elevator large enough to hold forty people. Motors at each of the eight corners hauled it along four metal tracks through an exposed central shaft. She got a pleasant view of offices arranged around the open middle, plants everywhere. Artificial birds swooped and darted through hazy rays of sunlight pumped in through fiberoptic lines from the outside to feed the plants.

Dorian whistled. “Is this an office or a mall?”

The elevator stopped, having descended only four floors. The orb hung a left as it exited the cab and went for a wide opening with an inclined motorized floor. As soon as she entered, Kirsten realized this was the inside of the large inter-building archway. People glanced at her, as many checking out the gun on her hip as did her figure. One or two recognized the significance of the black and speed-walked away. She continued to walk rather than let the moving sidewalk do the work, and passed through the uphill archway in under a minute. The orb lingered at the end, having cleared the passage in a few seconds. As she neared, it drifted off to the right.

Another elevator took her to the ground floor of the main tower, past dozens of floors of plants, rerouted daylight, and somber employees. When it stopped, the familiar yellow glow of holographic police warning strips came into view at the end of a hallway to the right. She paused, staring through the glass wall of the elevator at Division 2 techs checking out a bloody trail through the grey carpet.

“Officer?”

She looked ahead; the orb had not waited for her and had to double back to let her catch up.
Strange how even corporate
robots s
eem impatient.
It led her away from the investigation scene, north instead of east, and stopped by a large black reception desk in the security section. The man waiting for her appeared to be Chinese, possibly early thirties. His plain black suit looked unassuming, not at all as pretentious as she had expected from the VP of internal security.

“David Ling?” she asked, extending a hand.

“Ah, Agent Wren, so nice to meet you face to face.” The voice matched the orange light.

“I trust you understand why I’m here, as opposed to the other officers?”

He paused, measuring his response with a sideways glance at the receptionists. Hand extended, he took a step. “Please, this way.”

She followed him to an office at the corner of the next hallway that was, except for the floor and ceiling, a cube of glass. Holograms of Chinese art, watercolor on paper, shimmered an inch off the transparent walls. The small, egg-sized projectors responsible for them were unobtrusive, almost invisible behind the false floating paper. A few swords and a pair of bo staves hung on pegs. Dorian looked around, shaking his head.

“Hard to do naughty things with the secretary in an office with glass walls.”

Kirsten shot him a look.

David Ling turned to face her, wearing a serious expression. “I do, Agent Wren. I spent an hour this morning talking to Greyson Kendrick.”

He doesn’t feel psionic.
“Do you normally see ghosts?”

Dorian took a step as if to punch him; Mr. Ling did not react. “I’d say no.”

David shook his head. “Not usually. I had arrived early as I do every day, so I can hit the gym before I start work. I’d just returned to my office and settled into my morning meditation. Just as I grounded myself, I heard him talking.”

“Fascinating.”

“The mind is a powerful tool if you know how to wield it.” Mr. Ling offered a slight bow. “I have been told you are able to see spirits with much less effort involved. Mr. Kendrick was quite insistent something terrible was afoot and wanted me to do something. Unfortunately, the shock of hearing him broke me out of my state and I”―he chuckled in a whispery rasp―“must admit to being a little too rattled to try again.”

Kirsten glanced around, seeing only Dorian in terms of ghosts. “He’s not here now. I recognized the two men who attacked from another case I am working on. Can you tell me what, if any, relationship Dalton Chen or Michael Corley had with Mr. Kendrick?”

“He was their immediate supervisor. Well, Mr. Chen reported to Mr. Kendrick. Corley and the Moriyama girl were direct reports of Mr. Chen.”

“Mr. Ling, I apologize if I’m being too blunt here, but we both know Seneschal was the lead on a
problem resolution
team. I usually take that particular euphemism to mean assassins. They were sent to kill someone, weren’t they?”

“I cannot comment on that.” Mr. Ling walked around his desk and fell into the seat, elbow propped on the edge, fingers over his mouth.

She squinted at the worried look he sent at the window. “No, I’m not going spelunking into your head. Unless you’re killing innocent people, I don’t have jurisdiction on corporate espionage.”

“Liar,” taunted Dorian.

Mr. Ling folded his hands in his lap. “Door, close.”

A soft rush of air behind her.

“Greyson was Seneschal’s ‘handler.’ He was responsible for giving him tasks. They were not always assassinations, Agent Wren. Most of the time he rescued abducted employees overseas, or retrieved stolen property, or facilitated the extraction of defecting talent.”

“But he
was
sent to assassinate Vikram Medhi?”

The name flashed with immediate recognition on David Ling’s face.

She raised both eyebrows at his look of shock. “You seem surprised. We’ve already established I can see ghosts. I met Mr. Medhi at the PubTran station a few nights ago, as what was left of Seneschal and his team tried to kill him… again.”

Ling thrummed his fingers on the desk. Kirsten had seen that face before, the desperate want to disbelieve what he was hearing despite having seen or heard enough to have doubts.

“Anything at all you can tell me might help. I have a feeling Seneschal might have come back for revenge on Greyson for getting him killed.”

“Is that typical? He’s only been dead a short while. I’ve never even heard of such a thing. Hauntings are usually… umm…” Ling waved his hand as if searching for what to say.

“You’re right; most hauntings are far more subtle. Seneschal has become something more than just a simple haunt, and I’m trying to understand what and how. Please, what do you know?”

“Vikram Medhi had been employed, on the side, by Lyris Corporation for several electronic infiltration operations. While he was working for us, he decided to help himself to confidential data belonging to Lyris in violation of our trust. Mr. Medhi then attempted to use said information to extort twice the agreed upon fee in exchange for not selling it to our competitors.”

Dorian shook his head. “Translation: Medhi got some dirt on Lyris and wanted to go to the Newsnet with it.”

“So, rather than pay the blackmail to buy his silence, they sent Seneschal’s team to silence him for good.”

Ling touched his fingertips together. “That would be illegal, would it not? The team was sent to get the data back.”

Kirsten frowned. “It’s a little late to sugarcoat it. Doesn’t much matter what their orders were now. The man who ordered the hit, Greyson I assume, as well as the people who killed Vikram are already dead. There’s nothing to prosecute. A surviving relative might sue the corporation, but you’re lucky; he doesn’t have any.”

David offered a mute nod.

“I doubt they’ll be back; they got what they came for.”

An older Caucasian man in a black suit, as pretentious as she had expected David’s to be, walked in through the glass interior wall. From neck to crotch he was a bloody mess. At least two dozen finger-sized holes, and several larger ones, offered a view clear through him. Kirsten adjusted her stance to face him.

“Grayson Kendrick?”

He nodded.

David stiffened. “Is he here?”

Dorian looked him over. “SPR-42, less than ten feet away. Probably two shots.” He circled behind him. “Fuzz in the exit wounds, probably got it while sitting in a nice, expensive chair.”

Grayson grumbled, rotating after Dorian. “I was not expecting a ghost cop. I want to report a murder.”

Dorian smiled at Kirsten. “He wants to report a murder.”

“Which murder would that be, Grayson? The one you ordered on Vikram, the murder of your hit squad, or the revenge killing that claimed you?”

Grayson glared at her. “There’s no need to be so hostile.”

“Did it even bother you when your squad got wiped out?”

He fidgeted.

“I thought not. You were more concerned with the stolen data than their lives. That’s probably why they came back to kill you.” She scowled at him. “They’re still a threat I need to take care of. What can you tell me about this whole mess?”

Grayson glanced at Mr. Ling, who remained happily outside the conversation. Kirsten turned away so as not to giggle at Dorian’s eye peering at her through one of the bullet trenches.

“Vikram stole some of our data. I sent the team in to recover it and teach him a lesson. I am not being deceitful when I say I did not order his death. I don’t know what happened that night, missy.”

“Watch your tone. You call me Agent Wren, or possibly Kirsten, if you can stop being a puffed-up ass for five minutes.”

Dorian snickered into his hand.

Mr. Ling could not help but mirror it. “Kendrick always was a bit over the top; SVP attitude, Director’s chair.”

Grayson frowned at him. “Will you tell him to kiss my ass?”

“He wants you to kiss his ass,” quipped Dorian.

“Oh, that’s cute. He can’t hear you, either.” Grayson grumbled.

“What do I need to know about the team?” Kirsten stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Mr. Ling.

“Seneschal was their squad leader. A consummate professional, he did a lot of work for various European firms before we acquired him due to his exemplary record.”

“I suspect that means he could kill without hesitation, obeyed orders without question, and never got caught.” Dorian leaned on the desk.

Grayson scowled.

Kirsten smirked. “It’s a bit late for corporate obliqueness, Grayson. You’re dead.”

“Fine. We recruited Dalton Chen for his ability to get done what needed to get done. He was loyal to his contract. As soon as he signed a new one, previous employers were no different than any other potential adversary. He had no family, no attachments, no hesitation.”

Dorian laughed. “Sounds like a nice guy.”

“He was not fond of sloppiness, and rather frowned on Mariko for enjoying her work so much.”

“She enjoyed killing?” Kirsten thought back to the shadowed face, the glowing red eyes, and that look of pure glee as she caused pain.