Cassandra Kresnov 5: Operation Shield (33 page)

Then out onto the side road, where police vehicles sat with flashing lights, cops waiting for arrests to emerge. A police van's rear door was open, and the detective gestured Ari inside and followed.

“Sinta,” she said, closing the door. “Homicide, Lagosa District. Need to talk to you.”

Ari blinked at her for a moment. Even prettier at this range, hair tied back, typically Indian gold stud in the nose against milk-chocolate skin. She wasn't
trying
to look smoking hot, he conceded—she was dressed like a plainclothes cop, jeans, jacket, tied-back hair, minimal makeup. But poor girl, she just couldn't help it, and Ari could see situations, amongst the kinds of men cops had to deal with (and sometimes were) where that would make her life much more difficult than if her genetics were toned down several notches. “So you're leading this raid?” No disagreement. “And you're sitting here talking to me instead? Dear God, you didn't do this whole thing just to talk to me?”

Frustration flashed in her eyes. “Listen, do you have any idea how hard it is for a cop to get a hold of some bigshot CSA Intel? You put in a request through channels and it just disappears, you talk to guys in the field and they won't give you a straight answer…”

“Look, lady…” he struggled to control a grin. “I'm not that hard to find, honestly. You held up the Songs for this? Oh, boy, they'll be pissed.”

Her eyes hardened. “So what were you doing in there anyway? A bit of that ‘legal experimentation’ we know you shadowy types like to get up to?”

“Talking to contacts,” he said, still amused. Sinta got even hotter when she was angry. “They don't hang out in coffee shops.”

“Talking about what?”

“Join the CSA and I'll be allowed to tell you.” He leaned back against the bench seat, amidst spare vests and tactical headgear hanging on the ready rack behind. “So tell me, what's a stunner like you doing in the cops? I mean, surely mom and dad didn't pay all those genetic extras so their darling daughter could get paid like robot maintenance to hustle the Song family for scraps?”

He was surprised, and even a little impressed, when that didn't make her more angry. She just gave him a “look,” probably having heard all that before. “I did law and hated it. But I grew up on crime fiction, decided to take a pay cut and enjoy my life more.”

“Ah.” Even more impressed. “Friend of mine did something similar, good for you.”

“Look…I don't know if I have anything. But I've got a very weird case, and it's not going anywhere with my superiors. I think they're getting leaned on.”

Ari frowned. “Homicide, you said? Whose homicide?”

“Idi Aba.”

“The emancipation activist lawyer? The one the League killed?”

“Well, that's just the thing,” said Sinta carefully. “I don't think they did.”

Ari knew just the place to take a hot girl for some alone time. A private booth at Tickler, one of the hotter clubs in Patna, three blocks from The Happy Song. From the completely cool way Sinta accepted his choice, with expensive holographics, thumping music, and three multi-level bars around the dance floor serving all kinds of probably spiked and VR-interactive things, he had to fantasize that she'd been a patron in these kinds of places before. Maybe like one of these scantily clad girls they walked past on the floor to get to the booth. Or maybe she was just a cop and busted these kinds of places regularly. But that idea wasn't as much fun.

“I know the guy who set up these booths,” said Ari as they settled in, “and I've a passkey to their inner network, so these booths are pretty unbuggable. Drink?”

“Don't suppose they do a cappuccino?” she asked wryly.

“No, but a hell of a cinzano-flavoured lassi, tastes like it'll blow your head off, but zero alcohol.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, but you're paying. Me on the salary of robot maintenance and all.” Ari grinned and ordered. Cops weren't actually paid
that
badly, they just complained a lot, especially to the CSA.

The drinks came in no time. “The owner knows you?” Sinta said tiredly.

“Sure. Good contacts here.”

“And you won't bust him in the process. You know how many clubs like this are involved in really bad stuff that CSA guys like you just let go?”

Ari cleared his throat. “Well, firstly, there aren't any CSA ‘guys like me,’ just me. And secondly, if you cops knew half the stuff I chase down in places like this, you'd wet yourselves.”

“Sure, let me adjust my sanitary pad.” Sipped her drink. “You're right, that does taste like alcohol.”

“I'm getting you drunk,” said Ari. And, “Kidding, kidding,” at the look she gave him. “So, your case.”

“Okay. I can't reveal any files, can't show you electronic, VR, paper, anything, it's been classified secure and I have to file paperwork up to the highest level to share it. If they saw your name on it, they'd can it and I'd be in trouble.”

Ari frowned. “Some reason they don't want the CSA looking?”

“Not just the CSA, anyone not from our precinct,” Sinta explained. “Organisational barriers, once it gets out you can't control it. They've been instructed to control it, or that's what it looks like. But just because I can't show you actual stuff doesn't mean I can't talk about it. So long as no one else knows.”

With a wary look. She was serious, at least. A mere detective could get into serious shit with this kind of thing.

“I didn't get this well connected by just repeating every sensitive thing I was told,” Ari reassured her, sipping his drink. The leather booth seats vibrated beneath them, boom boom boom, lights from outside flashing against the curtains.

“Okay, Idi Aba was shot close range, outside his apartment, almost exact same time as the attack on the HDM tower took place.” The very mention made Ari feel far more serious than he wanted in such entertaining company. He remembered that attack very well. Remembered thinking it his last moment alive. “Building security has no record of an entry or exit, we've looked at all the hacking tricks, counted the numbers of people coming in and out in case the attacker used someone else's face, you name it. But we've still no idea, which tells you it's a pro.

“Idi Aba was shot in the back as he walked from his door, one in the back, two in the head on the ground. Gun was an 8 mil, no one heard anything, so figure something quiet, probably a mag shooter. Only two other doors on that apartment level, he had a nice place, big apartments, not much risk of being surprised. Hallway camera shows nothing, empty corridor.”

“Security system?” asked Ari.

“Zaphira Tech.”

“Good,” Ari affirmed. “Not that good, but good as they go. You'd think serious pro to do it that clean, maybe ISO.”

“Here's the thing,” said Sinta. “For all the security, this big apartment building has external glass elevators. Facing them is a sniper's paradise, buildings, cover points everywhere. If it's ISO, League GIs, why not just shoot him from range? Rather than penetrate all those levels of security to get into the building and get out again? It's a two-person job for a real pro, one to keep lookout, the other to do the hit, right?”

Ari frowned. Thinking of several things he could offer at this point, but Sinta was good and on a roll. “Keep going.”

“And again, an open-air parking lot at a lower level. So even if the glass elevator makes a tough moving target, again doubtful for GIs but possible, they could get him while he goes to his car. I didn't want to run the sim because I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing to my captain, but just standing there in that parking lot, I counted maybe thirty spots for a good sniper. Including a couple of mega-rise where you park up top and bring the sniper rifle in from there, that's much easier security to breach than coming up from the bottom.

“And I don't reckon there's any way this was GIs, because ISO GIs are fighters not sneakers, and there's talk going around that League don't like
training their own GIs with these kinds of covert skills in case they start using it against League, they prefer their GIs as spec ops combatants, not spies. So if this other attack is GIs, Idi Aba's murder isn't, must have been regular humans.

“But League lost their diplomatic access to Tanusha three months ago when the embassy was closed. They can't get people in through those channels anymore. Now, it could be sleeper agents, people who've been here a while…but deep cover in Tanusha's hard to get, you'd blow that for, what, an emancipation activist? We know they can sneak stealth ships into the system and make capsule drops into the atmosphere, but the Gs they pull are hard for regular humans, GIs do much better. It's just a lot of work for such a small target.”

“Doesn't mean they didn't do it,” said Ari. “Trying to guess the how and why of ISO is best left until three years after they've done it. They play long-term chess; short-term analysis never makes sense.”

“Right,” said Sinta, nodding. Ari liked the way her eyes became all animated as she followed her train of thought. “So it looks open and shut, right? Two League operations, against two League enemies, an emancipation activist and the CSA, both at the same time, using each other for cover. And with pros like that, we're not going to find any evidence, so when we've such an obvious explanation, why bother looking further? Blame it all on the League and do the paperwork. Very convenient. I hate convenient.

“So I figure if the shooter's this good, he's not going to screw up and I'm not going to catch him that way. So I look at the victim instead. Idi Aba was acting very strangely up to his death. I got access to his data files, only they've crashed, they had a delete function that saw he was dead and erased everything.”

“Well, some of these emancipation guys are paranoid,” said Ari. “They think all the anti-GI crazies will come after them.”

“I couldn't see what was in his files,” Sinta continued, “but he put the delete function there last week. The same time he started taking
lots
of network calls. I talked to his colleagues, lately he'd been net talking all the time, normally on business he'd just shrug them off like anyone does, but he was stopping in the middle of briefings to take urgent calls, missing the beginning of trial preps because of calls…some thought he was having woman trouble, only he wasn't married and wasn't seeing anyone, that anyone knew, and his financials seem to confirm that.

“I couldn't get any message content or where it came from, but a buddy of mine who works off-grid…a bit like your buddies here…” with a glance around, “…managed to salvage a bit of the encryption whoever was calling him used.”

“Just one caller?” Ari asked.

Fast nod. “Yep. Government encryption. Grand Council. Top security.”

Ari's eyes were wide. “Oh, fuck.”

Another fast nod. “It's not supposed to survive a recording, but my network guy knows some serious tricks.”

“Look,” Ari said urgently, “do you still have a copy of that encryption pattern? Because I know some people who can place that even more specifically than…”

“Already done,” said Sinta, a gleam in her eye. “My guy put me onto some other guys…the same guys who put me onto you. They'd broken the fucking Grand Council encryption seals, can you believe that? Just for fun. They still don't know what the messages say, but they know who's saying it. This one's coming from Ambassador Ballan's office.”

“All of those calls?”

“Yes. He's got a big staff though, narrowing it down would be hard even if I had access, which I can't get without telling my Captain I suspect it's not League GIs, and him getting all ratty on me.”

Ari stared at her for a long time. Normally that would be very distracting, but now his thoughts raced unimpeded. Sandy called him paranoid, but even she would be thinking nasty thoughts at this point, surely. Sinta finally got tired of him staring at her, and made a “so?” expression and a little shrug, challenging him.

“That's it?” asked Ari.

“That's it. I was kind of hoping you could do some digging yourself with Ballan, I understand you know him.”

“Well, not really.” That was Sandy's friend, and he didn't want to bring her into this right now. “But I'm real good buddies with a fellow named Ibrahim you might have heard of.”

A wide-eyed nod.

“Look,” he said, “you said you like crime fiction…when I read it, I'm terrible, I turn to the last page first.”

“Barbarian,” she said.

Ari nodded. “What's your last page here? What do you think it is?”

Sinta shook her head. “My working theory is someone in the Grand Council. Probably not even one of Ballan's staff, probably that's a cover used to throw any investigations off. Beyond that, I'm not prepared to guess. What's your last page?”

Ari shook his head. “You're not thinking anywhere near big enough. First, ask yourself a couple of questions. If someone in the Grand Council used the League attack on HDM tower to cover the murder of Idi Aba, how did they know League was going to attack?”

Sinta blinked at him. “I hadn't really thought of that,” she confessed. “You think they knew in advance?”

“If they did,” said Ari, “then we're looking at a traitor. They won't see it that way, of course, but working in conjunction with League agents attacking Federation agents is treason, and the last I checked the war may be over but the statutes are still on the books for treason, and the punishment is death. Now if the person to be put to death is a high-ranking member of the Grand Council…”

Sinta's face paled. She really hadn't thought it through that far. Some people were micro-focused, their brains were brilliant at small details, but they missed the larger picture. Such people might make good detectives, paying attention to every tiny clue but never looking up long enough to see where they were headed. The macro-focus people might be better suited to CSA Intel.

“Secondly, ISO don't just let slip their plans to people in the GC by accident. So either they approve, or they're using someone there for another purpose. What would make the League really, really happy right now? Concerning Federation policy?”

“Well, if we started…” Sinta blinked rapidly, and she looked up at him with dawning concern. “…fighting ourselves,” she concluded.