Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (34 page)

Tabby met the detective at an Italian cafe in a tiny pocket on the fringe of Queens. Gutterson had provided her detailed instructions about reaching the establishment in case the company was alerted to their rendezvous and employed a tail. It involved using the levitation train, walking several blocks, and taking a taxicab. Gutterson told her of the cafe owner's police connection, which allayed her concern a little. Tabby understood his paranoia and thought that if he knew the whole story, he might have been even more cautious.

They found an isolated booth near the back of the cafe and slid onto plush cushion seats. Gutterson scanned the few patrons before beginning and used a pocket device to check whether anybody was carrying a monitoring tool. She watched him, noting his edginess. It made her nervous too. He left the seating and strolled to the front of the cafe. She half expected him to return and inform her that the discussion was over, that they’d been compromised, and would have to meet at a later date. He didn’t though; he came back eventually, sitting across from her with his hands folded on the table, eyes centered on hers.

“Are we going to order coffee?” she asked. “At least make it look like this is just a friendly catch-up.”

Gutterson swiped over the glass screen on the table and ordered two cappuccinos. “Okay. Tell me. You said the deaths—or murders—were just the tip of it.”

“They were murdered—at least they think Charlie was for talking to you. But Janefield Investments deals in much more than money, Detective.”

“What do you mean?”

“They… control the population levels.” Gutterson's face folded into a look of disbelief. She knew what he was thinking. “By killing people. Murdering them randomly to keep the numbers down.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I told you it was more incredible than you could imagine.”

He leaned forward. “Population control? What the hell does that mean?”

Tabby provided a rendition of Tom's argument about the overcrowding, the lack of resources, and the carrying capacity theory. She laid out the background on population numbers through the twenties until the forties, and what the company had done to thwart growth. Gutterson sat there with a distant look on his face.

“There are divisions all across the country. They generate these ‘lists’ that pick people randomly from the registration records. They provide the data to justify all the murder—where we would be without it. They claim a much larger part of the world would live in poverty and the infrastructure just couldn't handle it. There would be chaos.”

“That's ridiculous.” He tittered, and she could sense the horror in his voice. “If this is real, then how do the authorities not know about it?”

“The government is part of the conspiracy. People do know about it, but just enough to make it all work. And there’s a code. I think the code of silence has to make it work. People are threatened with death—and the death of their loved ones—to keep it. Apparently those who have tried to break it end up as part of the murder they’ve supported.” Gutterson stared at her. “It gets crazier though; I’m finding out more information every day. They have projects scheduled years ahead. Natural disasters, epidemics, new diseases. AIDS, SARS. These sorts of things.”

Gutterson rubbed his temples and swallowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I just… don’t understand… how this can be.”

“Well, it is. Tom Bright told me everything. He also said not to talk to you.”

“Why is that?”

“He said if I dragged the police into it, the company would just squash it and go after my family.”

“Can you trust this guy?”

“I think so.”

“You sure he’s not a part of the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

Gutterson made a face. “I mean, you sure he’s not playing you?”

It wasn’t the first time she had thought of this. But Tom had been there when she’d needed him and he hadn't been aggressive. “No. Tom’s on my side. But the man you really need to speak with is Bryan Fox.”

“One of my colleagues spoke to him. He didn't say much.”

“Fox runs the NY office.”

A ‘bot reached their booth with two coffees on a tray. Gutterson touched his watch against the tray and it beeped, indicating payment from his account. He took the drinks. “What’s he like?”

Tabby tipped her head left and right. “I don’t know him well, but he seems friendly enough.”

“He’s a goddamn mass-murderer is what he is.”

“I know, but…”

Gutterson sat forward. “What?”

“It’s just… the way Tom explains it, Fox really thinks he’s doing the world a favor.”

“He's going to jail.”

“Speak with him. He might be able to help. Tom says he’s had enough.”

Gutterson lay back in his seat and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I need hard evidence, Tabitha. Computer records, e-mails, voice recordings. Data, transactions, processing information. Anything that backs up your claims so we can get the process rolling to bring these people to justice.”

“What about Tom? He’s been helping me. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“That depends on him. If he works with us, we might be able to make a deal. But we need evidence… and quickly. My time is running out and I don’t know who’s pulling the strings in the background.”

The drive. She had yet to tell him of its existence. It might well contain everything he outlined. But she hadn’t opened it and didn’t know how.

“I have something that might help. An old storage drive. Charlie gave it to me right before he died and said…”

Gutterson sat forward. “What?

“Nothing. Other than it contained valuable information about the company's activities.”

“Have you looked at it?”

“No. Tom said if I sync it to a device outside the company network, they’ll know. They already suspect I have it.”

“That could be a game changer. We need that information. You could give it to me.”

“Not yet.”

“You need to find out how to extract it then. Nothing is more important than getting that information off the drive.”

Gutterson had to contain himself as he hurried back to his vehicle. He was close now, closer than he’d ever been, and he wondered how the court could knock back a warrant request given the latest information.

He snatched the door open and dropped into the seat. He spoke the captain’s name and activated the call through his implant, which connected to the vehicle’s audio system.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Gutterson said, after Martinez answered.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to say too much over until I’m there, but you might need to get the chief in.”

“The chief?”

“We’re going to need all the backing we can get on this, Cap.”

Gutterson reached the precinct and jogged to Martinez’ office, drawing frowns from several officers waiting in the hallway to speak with the chief. Martinez was on the phone when Gutterson burst through the door. The captain ended the call, and sat, hands folded in his lap, watching Gutterson expectantly.

“What happened?”

“Is the chief coming?”

Martinez shook his head. “Couldn’t make it. I’ll brief him later.”

Gutterson read the skepticism in Martinez expression as he sat. The chief’s absence confirmed it. He leant forward. “It’s worse than we thought.”

“I’m listening, John. Tell me everything she said.”

A thought flashed through his mind. The information was bigger than anything he had imagined. Did sharing it like this expose him—expose the investigation? It might, but he had nobody else.

He began slowly, enunciating words for effect, watching the captain’s expression change as he listened. “There are millions of people out there who seemingly die of natural causes every year.” Martinez’ thin half-Mexican gaze narrowed even further. “Or so we thought. But what would you say if I told you they were actually murdered?”

From then on he had Martinez attention. Gutterson recounted his meeting with Tabitha in detail, adding in his own theories. He spoke of the population control and the lists. Martinez said little, but Gutterson read his thinking through the twitch of his eyes and the turn of his mouth. The captain had probably heard almost everything before, but not this. And he asked no questions because Gutterson had pre-empted them with his own thinking, understanding the way the captain’s mind worked. When he was done, Gutterson slumped back in the chair and watched his boss. He felt relieved having gotten it all out, as though he was no longer the one carrying around the weight of this knowledge.

Martinez sat for a long time flexing his jaw, looking everywhere but at Gutterson. Then he stood, dug his hands into his pockets, and circled the room.

“You know how it sounds, don’t you, John?” Gutterson pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. These… ideas… theories… they’re so goddamn outrageous. To think people would…” He stopped and looked at Gutterson. “It’s almost too absurd to be anything but true. Almost as if thinking this up would take a mind so crazy as to be impossible.” Gutterson agreed. “So you’re telling me,” Martinez continued, eyeing Gutterson with an incredulous smile, “that this organization—global organization—accounts for a good portion of the deaths that exist in society today?”

“Yes. And not only that, but I think it has been going on for a long, long time.”

“If there’s any doubt about this, any hesitation at all that this woman might be making it up or—”

“None. It’s there. I’m certain.”

“You’re going to need more evidence than we can probably imagine.” Gutterson nodded. “And if you’re wrong, you’ll never work for the NYPD again.”

“I’m well aware of that.” But Gutterson didn’t like the way the captain was saying 'you' rather than 'we'. It left him with an uneasy feeling.

Martinez walked the office, studying the dozens of plaques and trophies; the photos of him with the well-respected citizens of NYC. He stopped in the corner and stared at one of him and the Commissioner. Finally, he turned back, and said, “How is it possible for such a thing to happen with such limited knowledge?”

“I’d say—and I’ve only had a few hours to think about this—that it’s the principal that kept the crime families afloat for so long.
Omerta
—the code of silence.”

“But we beat the mafia organizations.”

“Maybe this is the aftermath, born from the death of organized crime all those years ago.”

Martinez leant against a bookshelf and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, if that’s true, God help us. You know how long it took us to put them away.”

“I’m not giving up on this one, Cap. Apparently there’s a storage drive with classified information. Charlie Billings loaded it up before he died.”

“Where is it?”

“Tabitha Marks has it.”

“Will she hand it over?”

“Says if it’s used outside of the company network their people will be alerted.”

“So what. It’s evidence. Get it fast, before it disappears.”

“I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to confront the CEO, Bryan Fox.”

Martinez stopped, spun towards Gutterson. “And say what?”

“Tell him we know what’s going on. That we’ve got evidence Dominic Curwood and Charlie Billings were murdered, and that we’ve got people willing to talk. Give him the chance to work with us.”

“He’s not going to take that.”

“He might.”

“You provide him that option and it might take the whole thing apart. You could compromise your entire case.”

Gutterson nodded. “Maybe. But I think it’s worth the risk.”

“I don’t know, John. Now I know why I’ve had numerous people mention this investigation. Maybe it’s worth waiting to confront this Fox until we can get the right evidence.”

“You’ve stuck by my judgment up until now, Cap. Remember, I was the one who said there was more to it. I was suspended last time. I was—”

“Okay, okay,” Martinez said. He put up a hand. “I owe you one. Just… be careful. Don’t let your impatience ruin the case.”

“Talking to him is a long shot, but I need to try. I need to go for the home run.”

Martinez stared at Gutterson for a long time, as if making a final judgment as to whether he was capable of pulling it all off. Then he nodded. “Get your search warrant request in today. If it comes through, you’ll have it by tomorrow.” Gutterson was about to remind him of the original requests and their delay. “And don’t worry. I’ll follow this one through.”

“Thanks, Cap. And let the chief know, will you? I don’t want anything stopping this in the end.”

Tabby sat at her desk staring at the screen, turning the tiny storage drive between her fingers. Gutterson had said nothing was more important than getting that information from the drive. Now she just had to sync it with the system, and she'd find out what was inside.

And so it had come down to this. She’d spent ten minutes working out how to lock the sliding glass doors to her office through the control panel in her computer. The system had warned her against doing so—not the least that it contravened occupational health and safety laws—but she ignored it. The company had been contravening those for years, and she found the statement highly hypocritical.

Tom had told her specifically not to try and access the files. But they were at a critical point now. Gutterson needed evidence, and Tabby could think of no other way of accessing the information given the company used a proprietary operating system. Accessing the files beyond the company network was impossible. Doing it this way was her only option. It provided the chance to expedite the situation and push forward with what Gutterson needed to bring the company down, rather than to feign her role at Janefield. Of course, she might alert someone to her use of the drive, but she had fashioned a story about finding it at the bottom of Charlie’s desk and her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tabby placed the drive on the desk and swiped the screen. A heavy fist banged against the door. She jumped. The smoky glass protected her from view, but it sounded like the person was intent on getting inside. Maybe it was Tom, or her new assistant, Rachel. She opened the top drawer, placed the drive underneath a layer of stationery items, and strolled across the floor to a small button on the wall. She pressed it and the glass doors rolled back revealing the last person she expected to see: Samantha.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. Before Tabby could respond, Samantha pushed past into the office. “Nobody disables their doors.” She searched the room, jumping from one object to the next. “Unless they’re hiding something.” Samantha swung around to face her, the harsh angles of her face and narrowed eyes questioning Tabby’s intentions.

Careful, now.
“I didn’t know it was against company policy. I just needed a moment—”

“It’s not against company policy, but it’s frowned upon.” Samantha pushed up into her space. “I asked why?”

Tabby resisted stepping back. She stiffened and stood taller. “And I told you why.”

A cold smile twisted Samantha's lips. “I know you’re hiding something, Tabitha. You might have convinced the others you’re clean, but not me.”

“Then why don't you do something about it? If you think I’m guilty, call in the dogs and have me disciplined.” Samantha stared, her green eyes sharp and hard. Tabby turned away and went back to her desk. “Please leave. Otherwise, I’ll call Mr. Jennings or Tom and ask them to come down. You can explain your theories to them.”

She went back to her screen, selecting the first policy on company expenses that caught her attention. She tried to focus on the words, forcing herself not to look up.

When Samantha finally left, Tabby slumped back, her heart beating faster.

Moments later, Tom appeared. “What is it?” he asked, reading her bloodless expression.

She waved a finger at the door. “That… woman. She’s after me, Tom. She…” her voice became a whisper. “Knows I’ve got the drive.”

Tom approached the desk and handed her a small tool.

“What’s this?”

“Protection. A Taser.” Tabby frowned and handed it back. Tom put his hands up. “Just in case.” Her expression suggested she didn’t need it. “Just for me?” Tabby reluctantly nodded. “And don’t worry about Samantha for now. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Like?”

“Jennings is giving you a list. Fox and I argued against it, but he thinks it will help you feel more a part of the process.”

“A list?”

“Monday morning. First thing. It happens all over the country. You’ll get a list of people’s names.”

“How does it work?”

“The central computer randomly generates the names based on city and social security information. We have to make sure the ages, gender, and locations are balanced. There’s a limit on the number of people from each community, and it’s also dependent on the population of the area. It’s all about the population control.”

Tabby felt sick. “Will they expect me to do it?”

“Jennings will push for it. We’ll fight it.”

“Either way, I’m not approving anything, Tom. Not even for the greater good.” She opened her desk drawer. “I’m going to sync this drive and find out what’s on it.”

Tom flashed a hand. “No. You can’t. We’ve been through this. IT will know straight away. They’ll report it, and you’ll be finished.”

“Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I just want this to be all over.” Tom's eyes softened, and his mouth and the edges of his mouth turned down. “What do I do then?” She pulled the drawer open and snatched the drive out. “Here.” She offered it to him. “You take it. You get the files off.”

Tom backed away. “I can’t do that. I put that in my CPU, and they’ll think I’m part of this.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you told me everything. You’ve given me—”

“I’ve never asked for these files. I promised to help get you into the company so we could find out what happened to Charlie and your mother. I told you not to talk to the police, but you obviously have.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” She stood, hands out in exasperation. “Charlie told me to give this drive to the police. You’re telling me not to. What do I—?”

“Okay, okay.” Tom came forward hands up in resignation. “There’s only one computer that won’t be monitored on this site—Fox’s. If you want hard copies of what’s on that drive, you need to get into his office.”

“How am I going to do that?”

Tom narrowed his eyes and folded his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure Fox has an external meeting tomorrow morning. You need to come in early and get into his office.”

“Talk sense, Tom.”

He sighed. “I can give you access.”

“That's the only way I can get to this information?”

Tom nodded.