Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (11 page)

“What are you doing?” the private said, as Felix reentered her residence and headed straight for the bedroom.

“Your quarters experienced an electrical problem,” he said. “It will be unfortunate that while you were asleep, you died in the resulting fire. By the time an official investigation is complete, you'll be half way to Earth.”

“Earth! Detective Ilom, I can't go to Earth. Why don't I just turn myself in? You can be my witness—this was all self defense.”

Felix stopped and turned to face McBride. “Turning yourself in won't do either of us any good,” he said. “They can invent any reason why you killed a GDI agent, make it stick, and not think twice about it. Your trial and immediate execution—bylaw for homicide—will spare them the effort of having you neutralized.”

“I know the law!”

“Then think about it. In the time they try, convict, and execute you, I can have you somewhere safe. Forget about turning yourself in. That'll be the surest way for them to get to us. I need you as much as you need me if we're going to get through this—alive.”

McBride turned away from Felix.

“Our backs are to the wall,” he said after her. “Though I don't like it any more than you do, it's the only way I can begin to help you—as well as myself.”

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”

“Tell me: What time does your shift begin at the storage facility?” he said, assured the soldier was calm.

“19:30,” McBride said, facing the agent. “Why?”

Felix walked away to resume setting up the accident in the bedroom. He started with a flammable glue compound, using very little of it, and rebuilt the stand to support itself as well as the table lamp and clock. He looked to his watch. It was 15:13. After spending a great deal of time setting up the table, he next rigged the clock as a timer. It was programmed to send a powerful surcharge of electricity to the outlet that it and the lamp would be plugged into. In shorting out the power to McBride's quarters, the strong current would also disable the fire suppression system, ensuring that the fire he planned to set would be thorough in burning throughout the apartment. At the same time, having replaced the lamp cord with an electrical wick, Felix changed the light bulb with one filled with a sodium-palmitate, gas mixture, providing the explosive component with the needed detonation device.

In the instant the electrical surcharge would travel the cord to the light bulb, it would explode from the ignition of the jellylike substance within it and disperse the fiery gel throughout the room. It would take seconds for the fire to grow and consume the interior of her residence. By the time a fire response unit arrived on the scene, the fire would be so intense that it would merely be contained to die out on its own. The lead GDI agent investigating its cause would be inclined to suspect an electrical fire, until at least the autopsy of the special agent would suggest otherwise, at which point they would realize McBride was still alive. Even then, the accident would slow them down, as the investigator would have to make sense of and explain both the fire and death of the GDI agent before determining the course of action of finding her.

Once Felix inserted the plugs of the lamp and clock into an outlet, he was done. The electrical fire was set to burn at 18:30, an hour before McBride was to report for duty—a little more than two hours to get her off Mars.

“Let's get out of here,” he said, as he inspected the tidiness of the dwelling.

Felix then opened the door and looked outside, and then looked back to the private. “I don't want people to see us leaving together. When you see me get into my transport, then you leave. Head down to the far end of the complex, and I'll meet you there.”

“All right.”

“Here,” he said, giving her the ID of the dead agent. “Leave yours here and use his to lock the door.”

“Okay.”

“And don't stop to talk to anyone.”

“I know,” she said, “let's go.”

Felix stepped outside and looked about. For the third time he checked, no one seemed to pay him any mind. In juggling the black case from hand to hand while removing the latex gloves and stuffing them into a coat pocket, he went to his transport, stored the valise in its side trunk, got in and started up the vehicle, and drove off. He adjusted the right side-mirror, and when he did not see McBride, he crept the UT along. Seconds passed before the door of her quarters opened, and he saw her exit and lock it. She then paced the third level esplanade into a jog, causing him to hasten the UT on to the first flight of stairs at the start of her complex, near 202L. There he met the end of her swift run as she came down. Felix opened the canopy while adjusting its tint level, and as the private hopped into the rear, the transparent hood darkened as it closed over them.

“What took you so long?” he said, driving her off.

“I almost forgot to change shirts, as you suggested.”

“Did you leave the other shirt it in the bedroom?”

“On the table,” she said, handing him back Jenkins' ID.

“Good.” He tucked the badge into an inside coat pocket.

“May I ask where we are going?”

“To see my wife.”

The ride became quiet, and Felix thought of analyzing the dirt sample. Not only could it corroborate McBride's account of smuggling arms to Earth, but it could also lead to new witnesses and more evidence. Then, he wondered what would happen after he had collected enough proof of the conspiracy's existence. Whom would he be able to trust to help ensure that the conspirators would be exposed and brought to justice?

He thought of Wilkes and became suspicious of his commander. He was still displeased with the current status of his case and tried to understand why the director in effect closed it. Felix presumed that if he reported to his supervisor what little evidence was found from the storage facility, then it too would disappear in similar fashion as Federation reserves, never to be seen again. As best he figured, it was as though Wilkes wanted the case to go unsolved. Surely, given the attempt on McBride's life, he had to be aware of some progress after deeming the case supernova—if he was involved, or so Felix thought.

Perhaps the need to keep the enigma of the conspiracy in tact was why they wanted the private neutralized, though Felix doubted that was the only reason. She was a good soldier, doing what she was commanded to do. Her conscience, on the other hand, would not allow her to blindly follow orders, and came into conflict with her sense of duty—as with him. Between her participation in the conspiracy and her demonstration of loyalty, she became conflicted and disillusioned. Of course, he made no mention of what he thought to her, as he felt she would have to come to terms with being at odds with herself on her own. At the same time, he knew her internal strife made her the wrong person to have continued involvement in a plot to start a future war. The personal issues she dealt with became a liability. It affected her in such a way that she was not effective in carrying out her part in the scheme to divert his investigation, as the four other guards before had done with great success. Instead of leading him to be mystified or in a direction away from the truth, she provided him with clues and information that revealed the reality of the missing provisions. Thus, she failed, and as a consequence they sought to eliminate her.

Now that Felix thought about it, the agent McBride killed was a special agent. He frowned, not wanting to believe that in all likelihood the agent was acting on Wilkes' order, as he supervised all special agents.

Felix returned his concentration to piloting the UT as he and McBride arrived at the Red Velvet. Once parked and having dismounted the vehicle, he escorted her into the lounge. When they entered, Felix could count the number of customers twice over on both hands, as he accompanied McBride to an inconspicuous table in the shadows while looking about; he saw Hoku chatting with a customer sitting close to the stage. By chance, she looked up and saw them, and her smile faded.

“Your wife works here?” McBride said as they took seats far from the stage.

“Yes. Here she comes now.”

“Hello,” Hoku said, and smiled. “Welcome. Can I get you two something to drink?”

“I'll have a Spruce single, and she'll have…”

“Water,” McBride said. “Water with no ice.”

“Will there be anything else?”

“I have a big order,” said Felix. “Will you be able to handle it?”

Hoku looked at her husband for a moment. His arms crossed before him, her smile wilted a bit before the intense look on his face, and she then said, “I can handle big orders.”

“Is it true that you guys serve authentic Earth dishes?” McBride said, her sense of ingenuousness reviving Hoku's smile.

“Yes, on occasions,” she said.

“Do you import any of your food from Earth?” said Felix.

“No, that's illegal.” Hoku knew he knew that, and her smile became weak.

“Then how can it be authentic?” he then said.

“That's a trade secret.”

“Well, we'll go to Earth for its authentic dishes then.”

There was a certain truth in Felix's declaration that alarmed Hoku, and it withered away her smile for good, as she looked from him to McBride back to him, and said, “Something wrong with the food from the agriculture sector?”

“It's not good,” he said.

“How so?”

“It could kill us.”

“I see,” said Hoku. “I'll be back with your drinks.”

Felix and McBride watched his wife maneuver pass occupied tables to the bar, as she said, “Beautiful.”

“She certainly is.” He then turned to face the private. “Listen, I have to run to headquarters.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Just a few minutes. I need to look into probable evidence that could help us. Don't worry, you'll be fine here. My wife will look after you. If you need anything, just ask her, okay?”

McBride nodded, and Felix left the table. He passed by the bar where Hoku stood waiting for the drinks from the bartender. He whispered into her ear and pointed to McBride. Hoku nodded, and then he left.

Driving up to the security gate of GDI headquarters, Felix stated his name, swiped his ID badge, and submitted to a retinal scan. The gate opened, and he pulled into the building's lower level. Having parked and left the UT, he paced over to and boarded an exterior glass elevator, and rode it from the garage to the fourth floor. Exiting the lift, he walked the octagon corridor around to the forensic lab, acknowledging the few comrades that passed by. At the lab's entrance, he gained access from a wave of his hand over its scanner, and upon entry, he walked a short corridor into the foyer before the familiar smile of the receptionist greeted him.

“Detective Ilom,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine, Alicia. How about yourself?”

“As well as can be,” she said, holding up yet another scanner.

Felix placed his hand on the face of the pad, and said, “Is Doctor Rolinski in?”

“Yes, he is.” A bar of light passed underneath and read the hand of the detective.

The registration protocol notified the laboratory's monitoring system of the agent's presence and timed his visit to the facility. From the handprint, the program also recognized him by name and his security clearance level, allowing him access to certain equipment and areas within the lab. A door opened to the rear of the receptionist, and Felix walked around her position and entered, finding himself at the beginning of a maze of glass walls. Seeing the chief forensic examiner sitting in his office, reading over some files, he maneuvered to the room and rapped on its transparent door.

The professor looked up, smiled, and waved Felix in. “How are you, Mr. Ilom?”

“I'm well, Doctor Rolinski. I trust you're the same.”

“Fine. Just fine.”

“I'm not disturbing you, am I?”

“No, of course not. What can I do for you?”

“I've finally got a break in my investigation.”

“Oh, well, congratulations. I told you patience would pay off. It helps to be persistent, too, which to me is obvious that you have been.”

“Yes, well, I found something for you to analyze.” Felix pulled out and placed the vials of dirt on his desk.

“Sure, sure, no problem,” Doctor Rolinski said, picking up the tiny glass containers and peering at the content.

“I'll be in the fingerprint lab unraveling jigsaw prints.”

“Yes, of course.”

Felix left the doctor to tend to the samples. Upon exiting the office, he went off to the right and entered an adjacent lab down the hall. He took a seat at a terminal station and, with the gesticulation of a hand, activated its virtual desktop. He then drew his forensic scanner, and after connecting it to the computer and a touch of the interface display, he leaned back to watch the dissection of the jigsaw prints unfold. The computer program searched its memory banks for records on Mars' 1.4 million registered Federation and non-Federation citizens. Seconds elapsed before it confirmed matches.

It was interesting to him that the jigsaw prints were all the same, as the computer identified four class B humans whose individual fingerprints made up each composite print that was found. Felix motioned his hands, searching for records; three of the four had been neutralized. “Naomi Ottawa, top priority,” he said. “A teleporter. It's little wonder that she has managed to survive.” Still, his suspicion of Wilkes grew stronger. He now believed the jigsaw prints were planted for him to find, to support his supervisor's theory of class B humans stealing from the Federation.

“How can the High Council account for missing reserves?” he said. “It can't openly be known that the Federation, or even parts of its government, is supplying a terrorist organization with arms and equipment. The ramification will undermine centuries of political and social progress. But if class B humans are responsible, then they have a scapegoat, and more incentive to neutralize them.” Felix typed on the light some more. “Ivy Miller,” he said. “Another special agent, and her, I know.”