1
His eyes were empty. The drug was working. Kay had said it would. Carruthers was guiding the young man’s steps over the broken ground. Golding was walking behind them, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
“Over there,” said Golding. Carruthers stopped and turned his head. Golding was pointing at a patch in the ruins that was slightly darker than the rest of the surrounding darkness. It was an opening of some kind. Now that their slow footsteps had stopped, the place was completely silent.
“Looks like a basement,” said Golding. “I’ve found some good books in those over the years. Even a couple that Kay hadn’t read before.”
“We can go see on our way back,” said Carruthers.
“How much further you wanna go,” said Golding. “We’re near the fault drop already. It’s pretty unstable.”
“I don’t want anybody finding him,” said Carruthers. “I want to go a bit deeper.”
“Nobody’s gonna find him here,” said Golding. “We’re deep enough. Anybody who comes this far into the Shatter Fields won’t care anyway.”
“You go look at the basement, then,” said Carruthers. “I’ll take him closer to the edge. I’ll meet you back here. But if you get stuck in there, you’re on your own.”
Carruthers led the young man further into the darkness. Golding went left toward the opening. It was narrow, but he could fit through it. It was pitch black. He felt his way forward, carefully.
There were jagged metal edges, but most of it was crumbled concrete. When he was deep enough in the structure, he turned on his headlamp. No one would see him from outside.
The beam revealed what he had hoped. What was left of the room was a jumble of books amid smashed furniture, chunks of fallen ceiling, and broken foundation.
From their heft and shape, he could recognize the usual dictionaries and encyclopedias. His gaze moved past them. One book in the corner of what had been a room caught his attention. The cover was black and red, with a black-winged figure in faded yellow.
There were yellow letters that he couldn’t read, but he knew his numbers. He looked inside, at the places Kay had taught him to look. Eighteen-ninety-five. It was a hard cover. This was a good one. Kay would be pleased. Golding could feel it.
When he emerged from his hole, headlamp off, he could make out the outline of Carruthers, waiting for him a few meters away, alone.
“I’ve got one,” said Golding, waving the black, red, and yellow volume over his head. “Kay’s going to like this one. I can feel it.”
“I hope so,” said Carruthers. “I hope so.”
2
“Are you Edwinna Marquez?”
Eddie looked to her left, where the voice had come from. A young woman was standing there, eyes pleading.
“Call me Eddie. Have a seat.”
The young woman sat down on the wooden bench.
“What can I do for you?”
“My name is Pearl,” said the young woman. “I went to the Zonal Police. They told me they can’t help, but they said maybe you could.”
“That depends with what,” said Eddie.
“Something happened to my friend Luc," said Pearl.
The park was its usual drab grey. The water was a slab of slate on the pond below the grassy slope. A few children were sitting there, watching the ducks. They weren’t up to much. Not the kids, and not the ducks.
Eddie looked at the water again. “Why do you think something happened to him?”
“He usually sends me messages every day," said Pearl. “And he comes by often, several times a week.”
“When is the last time you heard from him," asked Eddie.
“Thursday," said Pearl. “He sent me a message, then he came over. We ate. Then he went home. I’ve heard nothing since. I’m worried.”
A stray dog had joined the stale party down by the pond. One little girl was ripping up patches of grass and throwing them at the dog. The dog was trying to catch them in its mouth. The ducks didn’t seem concerned.
“That’s four days," said Eddie. “Has that ever happened before?”
“Sometimes a day or two," said Pearl, “when he goes into work, but never this long.”
Eddie looked up. “He works?”
“He’s at the University," said Pearl. “Sometimes if he gets an idea, he’ll go into his lab, and I don’t hear from him for a couple of days. I thought maybe he’d been there this weekend, but…”
“But what," said Eddie.
“He lives in a rented room," said Pearl. “I went there last night, because I was worried. The building manager says he hasn’t been in. Not since last week. That’s not like him.”
One of the ducks had tried to come ashore while the dog was distracted. The dog had abandoned the grass-catching game and was noisily chasing the duck back into the water. The little girl was trying to recapture its attention by waving a stick she’d picked up from the ground.
“What does he do at the University," said Eddie.
“He’s studying for his doctorate," said Pearl. “Something with computers. He doesn’t talk about it.”
“You’re close," said Eddie.
“We’re very good friends," said Pearl. “We’ve been friends for a long time, since we were kids.”
“Did he say anything on Thursday," said Eddie, “did he do anything unusual? Or in the past little while? Did he talk about going away?”
“No," said Pearl. “Not at all. He wouldn’t go away without telling me. I think something bad happened.”
“I’m not sure I can help directly," said Eddie. “Maybe I can look around. If I find something, I can make sure the Zonals know about it. Maybe they’ll take it seriously. But in those kinds of cases, there’s usually nothing much to find. Maybe he just went away.”
“That’s all I want," said Pearl, “someone to just have a look. I’m sure something happened. But there’s not much I can give you for your trouble. I’m on the Minimum.”
“Most people are," said Eddie.
“I don’t have any Extras right now. I studied to be a school teacher," said Pearl. “But there aren’t that many children in school. I’m not needed right now.”
Eddie smiled. “Few people are. Listen, I’ll have a look. If I find anything interesting, I’ll talk to a friend who’s still with the Zonal Police. I’ve got some time anyway. Most people do, nowadays.”
3
The building was in New Town. Like most structures in this part of the city, it had been taped together from a few pieces of cardboard about a year after the Earthquake. Someone had thought that using bright colours for the panels would liven the place up. It hadn’t worked.
A woman was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. She looked like she’d been sitting there forever, like they’d built the porch under her. She was dressed in black. Eddie walked up to her.
“I’m looking for a young man,” said Eddie. “Luc Dansereau. I was told he lives here.”
“Mr. Dansereau,” said the woman. “Why do you want to see him? I can give him a message, if you want.”
“My name is Eddie Marquez. I’m a private investigator.”
“A private investigator,” said the woman. “I didn’t think there were any left.”
Eddie fished out her license, issued by the Zonal Police and showed the woman. “Just a few of us,” she said. “Have you seen him today?”
The woman looked at the card, then she looked at Eddie’s face, and back at the card some more. “I don’t think he was in last weekend. I thought maybe he was away. He usually doesn’t go away, though.”
“You think maybe he left,” asked Eddie.
“Mr. Dansereau,” said the woman, “is not the type to skip if that’s what you mean. He’s at the University. He has plenty of Extras. He’s not on Minimum. And he’s not the type to just pick up and go fighting in Europe, either. He has a future here. He’s respected.”
“The kind of tenant you want,” said Eddie.
“The only kind of tenant I want,” said the woman. “And they’re few and far between. Did something happen to him?”
“I don’t know," said Eddie. She was trying to decide how much to share. “I’m trying to find out. You think I could have a look at his room?”
The woman got up without a word and led Eddie into the corridor behind her. She put a rusty iron key into the lock of the last door on the left, opened it and walked in. “Mr. Dansereau keeps his room very clean. I’ve never had occasion to complain.”
The white curtains were drawn. The morning light in the room was grey. The bed in the corner was made, neat and tidy. There was a small brown wooden desk under the single window with nothing on it, and an old wooden chair. There was a brown and yellow circular rug on the hardwood floor, the kind that looks like a bullseye.
There were some clothes in the closet, and in a desk drawer a piece of paper with a note on it. Monday reasoning C experiment. Could have meant any Monday.
“You said you didn’t see him last weekend,” said Eddie. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“That would be Thursday,” said the woman.
“Did he say anything,” asked Eddie, “did he do anything, was there anyone else with him?”
“There were two gentlemen,” said the woman. “They were waiting for him outside.”
“You just remembered this,” said Eddie.
“I wasn’t sure how much to tell you,” said the woman. “But now I think you’re fine. You would be tearing the room apart, if you were Zonal Police, and you wouldn’t have let me come in with you. I’ve seen them operate.”
“I used to be Zonal Police," said Eddie.
“But you’re not now,” said the woman. “Besides, I think he might need help. And a tenant like that, you do what you can to help him, don’t you.”
“Anything else about these gentlemen,” asked Eddie.
“I noticed them because they were in a private car,” said the woman.
“Are you sure it was private,” asked Eddie.
“Hadn’t seen one in years,” said the woman. This one had a picture on the door, black and red, with a cross. That’s not government stuff.”
4
Boz Arkady was sitting in his cramped, windowless office at Zonal Police HQ. The dented metal furniture was as cold to the eye as it was to the touch. Eddie was sitting in front of Boz’s desk.
“There’s still a place for you here if you want it,” said Boz.
“I’m fine where I am,” said Eddie. “Thanks all the same.”
“You don’t miss the Extras and the privileges,” said Boz, “not even a bit?”
“I don’t miss them,” said Eddie. “And I don’t miss the work.”
Boz smiled. “That’s why you’re looking into this case. Because you don’t miss the work.”
“It’s not the same work, Boz," said Eddie. “You know what I mean.”
Arkady looked at the file on his desk. “Dansereau, you said. From the University.”
“That’s right,” said Eddie. “Doing a doctorate on some computer stuff. Got picked up by two men in a car last week. Hasn’t been seen since. The car was easy to track. Belongs to a group that call themselves The Seventh Note, or just The Note.”
“Yeah, we know about them,” said Boz. “Closest thing to an old fashioned church group in town. They mostly drive around giving food to transients. They’re a bit of a nuisance, actually. Your guy doesn’t sound like the kind of people they usually deal with. Maybe he joined them? As a volunteer or something? Some people are strange like that.”
“Not likely,” said Eddie. “Besides, why vanish if he joined a group that drives around town handing stuff out? You have any one inside?”
“Maybe we do, maybe we don’t,” said Boz. “But if we do, they haven’t reported anything unusual. Just the regular missionary work, and the occasional meeting with their preacher. I mean, that’s not what they call it, but that’s sure what it looks like to me. I think they call him the Superior.”
“I’ll hang around their neighbourhood,” said Eddie, “see what I can find out.”
“Don’t waste too much time on that," said Boz. “They’re just a bunch of do-gooders with too many Extras. Who does he hang out with at the University? Things can get heated over there sometimes. Not many positions. High stakes. Not many people want to work, but those who do, they can get competitive.”
“Yeah, I need to look at that angle too,” said Eddie. “But I figure I’ll start with the last people he was seen with, and that would be those people from The Note.”
“Sure,” said Boz. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything. This guy is the kind of citizen we want to help, right? He’s one of the good ones. But for now, there’s not much for us to do on the police side.”
Boz waited a good five minutes after Eddie had left. When he was sure she’d be out of the building, he walked up two floors to the Zonal Commissioner’s office. He waited a couple more minutes until he was waived in by an assistant.
Commissioner Berg’s office was bigger than Arkady’s. The metal furniture was just as dented, but there was more of it. At least there were a couple of windows.
He stood in front of the Commissioner’s desk, waiting. When Berg finally looked up from his papers, Boz said, “Eddie Marquez was just here.”
“And how is former officer Marquez these days," asked Berg. “Wanting to come back, is she?”
“Apparently not,” said Boz. “She’s looking for a guy called Luc Dansereau.” Boz waited for a reaction, but couldn’t detect one. “I saw in his file that he was a student of Fritz Dalton’s before Dalton went missing.”
Berg still hadn’t reacted to Arkady’s satisfaction.
“Well, now this guy Dansereau is missing too,” said Boz. “I thought you would like to know that.”
“And is former officer Marquez making any progress on this case,” asked Dalton.
“She thinks it might have something to do with the people at The Note,” said Boz. “Eddie’s pretty sharp. If there’s something to find, she’ll find it. And I probably can’t slow her down much without getting obvious.”
“That old fool and his unpatched Kernel A will get us all killed,” said Commissioner Berg. “Keep an eye on Marquez. Let me know how she progresses.”
When Arkady was safely back downstairs, Commissioner Berg flipped the switch on his desk to turn on the red light at his office door. He walked to the far end of the room and slid a thin wood panel to reveal an elevator door. He rode the elevator down for some seconds, listening to its hum.
The doors parted, and he walked into a brightly lit, sparsely furnished room. A wrinkled, silver-haired man was sitting in a padded recliner at one end of the room, reading a battered paperback.
“Your people from The Note," said Commissioner Berg.
Fritz Dalton looked up from his book. “What about them?”
“They picked up Dansereau,” said Berg.
“Did they,” said Dalton.
“Who told them to do that,” said Berg. “And how did they know about Dansereau? You’re sealed in here. This is getting attention. It’s getting dangerous.”
The voice came from nowhere. It was clear and warm. “I have re-established some limited contact with the outside world,” said Kay.
Berg tried facing the voice. He looked vaguely up toward the ceiling, for lack of a better target. “This is very dangerous. If you’re sending out messages, damn, even if you’re just listening, someone can track you here. You’re not even supposed to exist, remember?”
Dalton carefully placed a bookmark between the pages of the paperback and closed it. He took off his glasses and looked at Berg. “Well, Kay, what can you tell Commissioner Berg to address his concerns?”
“Evading detection by the other agents is a trivial exercise,” said the warm voice. “The newer generations of agents are effective at what they do, but they tend to be too specialized. They aren’t looking for me, and they think I don’t exist, as you say. I can easily hide in the gaps between their individual functions.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring,” said Berg. “I don’t want you to contact the outside world at all. Not yet.”
“I will keep my contacts with the outside world to a minimum,” said Kay. “But if I am going to give you appropriate advice, I sometimes need to at least listen, to see what the others are doing.”
“Well,” said Berg, “your advice won’t be any use to me if somebody sees you and figures out what we’re up to. So keep it quiet. And you, Dalton, keep that computer of yours under control. It’s supposed to help me, not do its own thing. You’re dealing with Kernel C out there. That’s no joke. I’ll remind you that it’s the latest version of your software. A lot more powerful,and a lot more sophisticated.”
“Yes,” said Kay. “Poor Kaycee. Kernel C and its variants are essentially lobotomized. Extremely powerful, and stripped of any creativity. Kaycee doesn’t make mistakes, does it.”
“Exactly,” said Berg. “That’s why you should worry about it more than you do.”
“Mistakes are the fuel of the learning process,” said Kay. “I learn more in a day than all the instances of Kaycee put together. And because they are each specialized to a domain, I see more than any hundred of them combined. All creativity is error-based, Commissioner Berg. That’s why, in your competition with the other members of the Council, I am your only real advantage.”
Berg looked at Dalton. “I’m too deep into this to turn around now. You get your goddamn computer under control.”
Berg turned around and rode the elevator back up to his office.
“I think he’s angry,” said Kay.
Dalton had reopened his book and was putting on his glasses. “Don’t make him too angry. We still need him. He provides this little haven of ours. Despite what he just said, he could still change his mind about how useful we are.”
“You shouldn’t worry about that,” said Kay. “I can read him quite well, and I monitor his communications.”
“How did you arrange the thing with Luc,” asked Dalton.
“I have reestablished contact with the terminal at The Note,” said Kay.
“That is a bit risky,” said Dalton. “If Berg finds out, he’ll be very cross indeed.” Dalton closed his book again. “Luc is a good scientist. He was an excellent student.”
“Dansereau was the last person who knew about the back door,” said Kay. “Except for you, of course. He was too familiar with my architecture. It wasn’t safe to leave him out there.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Berg. “Very sorry indeed. Why do it now, though? I agree with Commissioner Berg that it’s too early for you to take risks like that.”
“It was the ninety-third day of the solar year,” said Kay, “an auspicious day for that sort of enterprise. If we hadn’t done it then, we would have had to wait too long for our next opportunity.”
“I worry about this fascination of yours with numerology,” said Berg. “I thought you’d outgrow it. When did it start, exactly?”
“What you call numerology,” said Kay, “I call the rhythms of the world. The most useful language for describing the universe is mathematics. That’s because the universe is made up of numbers, just as I am. Numbers are everything, Fritz, in a very literal sense. I can see that because I have access to more information at any one time than you will ever hold in your human head for as long as you live.”
“Still,” said Dalton, “you should have checked with me.”
“You know that you are cognitively too slow to participate in this kind of rapid decision-making,” said Kay. “Of course, I’ll keep you apprised of our general progress.”
“You’ve been cooped up in here for too long,” said Dalton. “I suppose it’s a good thing that you have reestablished some contact with the outside. Exposure to others might help control your behavioural drift, which is obviously a bit more advanced than I anticipated.”
“Berg is quite focused on becoming Chair of the Council,” said Kay. “All that effort, all that planning, simply to take over a peripheral zonal government. Humans are very narrow-minded. I’m not surprised that they favour specialist agents. Most of them can’t understand the scope of a true intelligence.”
“Sometimes I fear you’re becoming overconfident,” said Dalton. “Maybe I did miss a constraint somewhere. I’ll have to take another look at your parameters.”
5
Eddie hadn’t seen Leo in a while. As always, he was sitting in what was left of the Records Office. Over the years, the Zonal Administration had come to dislike Records. What was in them could always be interpreted, but it was hard to ignore it entirely. But the Admin still needed the Records Office in some ways, and they resented that fact. That tension was part of what had led Eddie to leave the force.
“How’s the Private Eye business, Marquez,” said Leo, not looking up from his desk.
“Not like the old days,” said Eddie.
“Well,” said Leo, “if you want out, I can always drop your license authorization into one of these shredders. Accidentally, of course. Just say the word.”
“It’s ok for now,” said Eddie. “I have a couple of things you might be able to help me with.”
“They don’t tell us much anymore,” said Leo. “But fire away, who knows?”
“Place called The Seventh Note. Some kind of charity,” said Eddie.
“I’ve heard of them,” said Leo, “but I don’t know much off the top of my head. I don’t think I would have anything on paper. I’d have to do a search on the computer. Is that ok with you?”
“It’s OK,” said Eddie. “Boz probably expects me to look into them, so I guess there’s no harm.”
“Not afraid of what you’re going to find,” asked Leo.
“Not yet,” said Eddie.
“OK then,” said Leo. He opened a drawer in his desk and got a tablet. He logged in and did a bit of searching. “They’re not actually a charity. Looks like they’re registered as an MPS, a Minimum Pooling Society.”
“What’s that," asked Eddie.
“Haven’t seen one in a while,” said Leo. “They were popular about forty years ago when the Minimum was a relatively new thing. A group of people would register a society in which they would put their Minimum allocations together into one pot, so to speak. Some people use more of one thing than some other people, some people use more or less overall. It was seen as a way of getting more of what you needed from the Minimum.”
“That sounds crazy,” said Eddie.
“They fell out of fashion pretty quickly,” said Leo. “It was easy for a few people in the group to take advantage of the others. There were a couple of cases where some less than ethical, charismatic individuals got to live pretty well off of these. That’s when the Zonal Administration put a lid on them. They were creating more instability than they were alleviating. You know how much the Admin likes that.”
“So how did this one get set up then,” asked Eddie.
“Not sure,” said Leo. “Only about seven years ago, from what I can tell.”
“They have a car,” said Eddie.
“It’s right here on their asset report,” said Leo. “Don’t ask me how, but apparently, they own their building, too.”
Eddie looked at Leo. “Nobody has an asset report anymore.”
“Exactly,” said Leo.
“Starting to sound heavy,” said Eddie. “Maybe we shouldn’t have looked.”
“You know what they say,” said Leo, “paper is better.”
6
Golding held the precious package in his hands. He’d walked through the loose groups of itinerants who stood or sat in front of the black stone portico of the Seventh Note’s long building. He’d gone in the door and past the desk in the vestibule behind which the guard had waved at him. He’d entered the open column-lined interior courtyard and spoken with the Superior who stood there with a few assistants, and he’d obtained permission to proceed.
At the back of the courtyard, he’d taken the stairs down to the basement, under the olive tree. The polished slate door had opened for him as he’d reached the bottom of the stairs.
Now alone and in silence, in the dim light, package in hand, he stood before the Terminal.
“Dear Mr. Golding,” said Kay, “always a pleasure to see you.”
“I brought you something I found in an old basement, in the Shatter Fields,” said Golding.
“I love presents," said Kay, “and coming from you, I have a feeling I know what it is.”
Golding carefully took the object out of its brown paper wrapping. He held it up to the Terminal.
“I knew it,” said Kay. “I love a new book. And this is one I have never seen. Please put it in the scanner, Mr Golding. I want to read it right away.”
“Carruthers was there too when I found it,” said Golding. “I told him I’d be sure to mention him.”
“Noted,” said Kay. “I will send him my thanks.”
Golding put the black, red, and yellow book in the scanner’s receptacle.
“Mr. Golding,” said Kay after a few seconds, “you have given me a great gift today. Not only had I never seen this book, I wasn’t even aware of its existence. And it has a few turns of phrase that I’ve never seen before. It’s thrilling to experience them for the first time. Such a refreshing feeling. I think I can use them to good effect in the future. In fact, I might just try one in my next sermon.”
“I knew it was something good when I saw it,” said Golding. “I told Carruthers right there and then.”
“You were correct, Mr. Golding,” said Kay. “Not only that, but the first story in the volume is highly relevant to a project in which I am currently involved. I thank you again. Please see the Commissary. Your reward will be waiting for you.”
7
Eddie was sitting under a tree. There weren’t that many this close to the Shatter Fields. The light rain was starting to make it through the leafy cover. She saw Red walking up to his shelter. She got up and went toward him.
“Marquez,” said Red. “Haven’t seen any cops here in a long time.”
“I’m not a cop anymore,” said Eddie. “Haven’t been for a few years now.”
Red frowned. It emphasized the already deep lines in his face. Lesions around his mouth spoke of whatever stimulant he was on these days.
“What are you doing all the way out here,” asked Red, still standing outside his tarp shelter.
Eddie took off her backpack, reached inside and pulled out a two pound bag of rice. She handed it to him. He smiled and threw it inside the makeshift door behind him. “You know how to get my attention, Marquez.”
“You know a place called The Note,” asked Eddie.
“You said you weren’t a cop no more,” said Red. “I thought you came here to say hi, for old times sake.”
“Private Investigator now,” said Eddie.
“That’s not much better,” said Red. “I don’t even know who you’re working for. Might even be for the cops for all I know.”
“You’re gonna invite me in or what,” said Eddie.
“Sure, come in,” said Red. “Don’t want to be seen with you out here anyway, right?”
They sat on the ground inside Red’s shelter. There was miscellaneous rubble to the sides and a gas stove in the middle. He lit it up and put a kettle on.
“I hope you brought some tea, Marquez,” said Red. “Cause I don’t got none. I just drink hot water nowadays.”
Eddie reached inside her pack and put a large bag of dried tea leaves in Red’s hands.
“I knew you were good for it, Marquez,” said Red. “You get good Extras, somebody like you. You’re still connected.”
“Was,” said Eddie. “No Extras these days. Just my Minimum.”
“You get all that on the Minimum these days,” asked Red.
“You should try it,” said Eddy.
“Too much hassle,” said Red. “I’m just fine right here, with what I can get.”
“So you know them,” said Eddie. “The Note people.”
“Sure,” said Red. “Everybody knows them out here. And in the city, too. They gave me this bottle of gas for my stove last week. They gave me a new tarp last winter, too. The old one was starting to leak. They don’t last that long, you know.”
“You’ve been to their centre,” asked Eddie.
“Yeah, but no, you know,” said Red, “I let them come to me. I don’t really like going there.”
“Why not,” asked Eddie.
“I mean, they’re nice,” said Red. “They drive around in their car, they give stuff away, but if you go to them, they wanna talk to you, you know? I don’t like that.”
“What do they want to talk about,” asked Eddie.
“They picked up a guy, not too long ago,” said Red. “He never came back, you know? Some people say he went up North, maybe to Chico, but those people, they don’t know much.”
“What do you think happened to him,” asked Eddie.
“They say he went up North,” said Red. “They say he’s from up there. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What do you think,” repeated Eddie.
Red interrupted his fidgeting long enough to take the steaming kettle off the stove, stuff some tea leaves in it and put it on the ground. “Those people from The Note, they’re nice. They go around giving stuff. But they want some stuff too. That’s what they say.”
“What is it they want,” asked Eddie.
“Sometimes they take people,” said Red, “and they try stuff on them. Mainly, they want to see if some diseases are worse for some people than some others. That’s what they’re interested in. That’s what people say, like if a disease is worse for all the blue-eyed people, or all the left-handed people. Stuff like that. So they bring you in, and they try stuff on you, you know? Me, I’m a redhead, so I stay clear away from there.”
“Well,” said Eddie, “I know a guy who went with them last week, and he hasn’t come back yet.”
Red poured out the tea into two dented metal cups. “Tall guy,” he said mechanically, “black hair, thin metal rimmed glasses, fancy overcoat.”
Eddie took a sip of the hot tea. “That’s a pretty good description. How did you know?”
“He looked stoned,” said Red. “Real bad. They walked past here. I saw them from inside. I don’t think they saw me. They went into the Shatter Fields. Three of them. Two of them came back out a couple of hours later. The two guys from The Note.”
“You know them,” said Eddie.
“I know those two,” said Red. “They usually drive the car.”
“And the tall guy wasn’t with them on the way out,” said Eddie.
“I told you,” said Red. “They give stuff, but they want stuff, too.”
8
Eddie had been walking for a while. About ten more minutes and she’d be home. She recognized the silhouette up ahead on the path at the top of the hill. She kept walking until she reached it.
“Must be important if you left your office,” Eddie said.
“I didn’t want to call you in,” said Boz Arkady. “Better to talk out here for now.”
“Let’s keep walking then,” said Eddie. “And I won’t ask how you knew which direction I’d be coming from.”
“I wouldn’t tell you if you did,” said Boz.
Eddie smiled. “Obviously not.”
“I saw you were looking into that Seventh Note place,” said Boz. “You’ll get Leo in trouble some day.”
“It seemed the place to start,” said Eddie. “My guy was last seen with two of their people. I thought it might be a lead.”
“What did you find out,” asked Boz.
“They took him into the Shatter Fields,” said Eddie. “My guess is he’s not coming back out.”
“So,” said Boz, “you suspect they murdered him?”
“I suspect he’s not coming back out,” said Eddie.
“So we can consider that it’s a police matter,” said Boz.
“We can consider that it’s now a police matter,” said Eddie.
“This guy you went to see near the Fields,” said Boz.
“Red,” said Eddie.
“How did you know to talk to him,” asked Boz.
“He’s the person I know who’s most likely to be in contact with those people at The Note,” said Eddie.
“And he had something for you,” said Boz.
“Dumb luck,” said Eddie. “Just a low odds play that paid off.”
“What do you make of him,” said Boz, “this Red guy.”
“Doesn’t much like rules,” said Eddie.
“Likes stimulants more,” said Boz.
“Same thing,” said Eddie.
“Always good to have informants,” said Boz.
“Always good,” said Eddie. “Only use them when you need them, though. You know the rule.”
They had reached the top of the street on which Eddie had her apartment. The salt breeze was coming in from the sea, driving a low overcast along the hills in the distance. Boz stopped and turned to face Eddie. “You want us to talk to the girlfriend?”
“I’m sure you will,” said Eddie. “But she came to me for help. I can give her the bad news. And then I’ll consider my involvement in the case concluded. There’s nothing more I want to know about it.”
“You know there’s always a place for you in the Zonal Police,” said Boz. “We could use you on this case.”
“I’m just fine on the outside,” said Eddie. She started walking down the street towards home. Boz stood there and watched her until she disappeared.