Memory Zero (5 page)

“Meaning someone, somewhere, must believe my statement that Jack was a vampire.”

“Or maybe they want to ensure you’re not seeing bogeys where there are none.” He hesitated. “It’s not exactly a state secret that vampires are not on your list of favorite people.”

No, it wasn’t. But that wasn’t what this was about. Nor was it the reason Jack now lay on a slab ten floors below them. He was dead simply because he’d tried to kill her.

And as the captain had pointed out, she now had the time to find out why.

But she had an awful feeling that the answers to many of the questions surrounding Jack’s death would not be found on the streets, but rather here, in the pristine halls of Central Security. An area that was now out of bounds until she was reinstated.

“You’d better go, Ryan. The SIU do not like to be kept waiting.”

She grimaced. “See you around, Cap.”

He nodded and began rifling through some papers on his desk. Knowing a dismissal when she saw one, she turned and walked through the door. Surprisingly,
security wasn’t waiting beyond the door to escort her to her desk and ensure she took nothing more than her personal belongings. In the corridor itself, people walked up and down, going about their daily business as if nothing untoward had happened, yet not one of them would meet her eyes. She shook her head, wondering why she was so surprised. She’d shot one of their own—and her partner, no less. It was the ultimate no-no in any law enforcement community. The reason behind her action didn’t matter to them. She’d crossed a line, and she would always be judged because of it.

She passed several doors until she came to the office she’d shared with Jack. “Lights,” she said, hesitating in the doorway.

A muted glow warmed the room. Jack’s desk was as he’d left it. She hadn’t touched it simply because she’d always thought he’d be back. She blinked back the sudden sting of tears and glanced across at the clock on her desk. Eight minutes left to find some sort of clue.

She sat down in his chair and rifled through the papers on his desk. Nothing caught her eye. But then, had she really expected a clue to be so easy to find?

“Computer on.”

The screen hummed to life. “Voice identification required,” stated a soft, sultry voice.

Jack had always preferred his computers to have a feminine cast, whereas her preference leaned toward cartoons. Dizzy Izzy, a hot pink fur-ball that had become the newest rage, was the voice of her com-unit here, while the old Warner classic, Marvin the Martian, was the current face of her home units.

“Samantha Ryan. Badge number MSF 1079.”

“Voice verified. Request?”

“Diary entries for the tenth of May, two-o-four-seven.”

“A password is needed before the request can be processed.”

She frowned. Since when had Jack begun putting security codes on his files? “Suzy.”

“Access denied.”

Maybe his badge number. “MSF 1045.”

“Access denied.”

She swore softly. The password could literally be anything. She frowned, trying to think back to the day he’d disappeared, trying to remember something, anything, that might provide a clue. “What about … vampire?”

“Access denied.”

“Afterlife.”

“Access denied.”

“Fuck,” she muttered, and leaned back in the chair. She had to get what she could now, or she’d lose out. Once official word got around about her suspension, she’d be escorted from the premises and not allowed back in.

The computer hummed silently. “Access granted.”

She blinked in surprise, then shook her head and smiled ruefully. Trust Jack to use a password like that.

“Transfer all personal files and diaries to outlink 1097. Security access one.”

“Transfer proceeding.”

What else might she need? She tapped her lip for a moment, staring at the screen. “Are there transcripts of phone calls for May tenth?”

“I have five on record.”

“Were those all the calls for that day?” Jack had
been something of a whiz at getting around official protocol, especially when it came to calls he didn’t want recorded.

“Two were not recorded.”

No real surprise there. Jack loved horse racing, and over the years he had lost a fair bit of money to the bookmakers—legal and otherwise. It was a practice that was officially frowned upon, and it would have meant instant dismissal if anyone else had found out. “You have the numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Send those and the five transcripts to outlink 1097. Security access one.”

“Transfer proceeding.”

She glanced across at the time. Damn, she was late. “Computer, complete transfer, then close.”

“Transfer complete. Have a good day.” A happy face appeared on the screen as the computer shut down. Smiling, she opened the drawers and grabbed Jack’s spare wristcom. Hers would probably be decommissioned right away, but with Jack’s death not yet officially recorded, both his units would still be viable.

She rose and moved across to her desk, quickly gathering the few personal items she cared about—her Marvin the Martian clock, and the big old china mug that Jack had given her their first Christmas as partners—and shoved them into a bag as she walked across to the door.

But at the doorway, she hesitated and glanced back. She’d spent a lot of happy times in this office, laughing and caring and fighting. And she had an odd feeling she wouldn’t be back to see it again. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly.

“Lights off,” she whispered. As the room fell into darkness, she added. “ ’Bye, Jack.”

Turning away, she headed for the elevators and her appointment with the SIU.

G
ABRIEL GLANCED UP AS A
young doctor entered his office, carrying a bundle of printouts. After pressing a button on the com-screen to black out the screen but not the sound, Gabriel relaxed back in his chair. “Are those the test results for Officer Ryan, Finley?”

The young doctor nodded and collapsed onto the only chair in the room that was free of books. “Christ, I’m exhausted. I don’t know how that woman is surviving, given she’s had so little sleep over the last twenty-four hours.”

“With Kazdan as a partner, I guess she’d have to be pretty tough.” He nodded toward the papers. “What are the results?”

“Well, she’s not crazy, but she does hold some deep-seated prejudices against vampires. So deep I doubt even she knows why.”

“They’re not the results I was talking about.”

Finley smiled evenly. “Didn’t think you were.” He shuffled through the papers and dragged out the middle set of sheets. “These results were interesting, to say the least.”

So he was right. There
was
something special about the woman. “Interesting how?”

Finley pushed his thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, as you know, when we measure psychic energy, most people come in at one end of the scale or the other, depending on whether they are gifted or not.”

“I helped invent those tests, remember?” he said, a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice.

“Ah, yes, so you did.” The young doctor cleared his throat. “The thing is, no one ever comes in as neutral. It’s impossible—either you have some ability or you don’t, simple as that. But this girl has done the impossible.”

Gabriel frowned. “As you said, that’s impossible.”

“With all the psychic deadeners we have around the place, there’s no way she can be using some form of talent to evade the probes. And yet, she registers neutral.”

Finley held out the printouts. Gabriel silently accepted them and quickly leafed through the sheets. As Finley had stated, every test had come out neutral. He stopped at the BP, cardiovascular and EKG charts and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Brain activity registers extremely high, considering the readout indicates she’d fallen asleep during some of the tests.”

“That in itself would suggest some form of talent at work—if it weren’t for the fact that the psychic deadeners render
any
form of talent useless.”

“Unless she has some form of talent that can evade the deadeners.”

“Unheard of.”

Gabriel glanced up from the printouts. “Until now, it was unheard of for anyone to come in as neutral.”

Finley pursed his lips. “True.”

“What do we know of her life before she joined the State Police?”

“Basic stuff. She was left in state care at fourteen. She remained there until she was eighteen, and then joined the State Police.”

“Have you done a check on her parents?”

“State did, when she joined. They’re listed as missing. The case is still open.”

Gabriel glanced up. “That’s not what I asked.”

Finley cleared his throat. “No, we haven’t done a check on her parents.”

“Then do one.” Gabriel hesitated, then frowned, rereading the last line of text again. “Body growth immature? What the hell does that mean?”

“Basically, it means that, physically, she has the body of a fifteen-year-old.”

“Finley, she’s twenty-nine years old.” And, he thought, remembering the firm roundness of her body pressed under his last night, she was certainly built like it.

Finley shrugged. “None of us can explain it—and we ran those tests twice, just in case.”

If she had the body of a fifteen-year-old, it suggested some sort of nonhuman background, because most nonhumans had a slower rate of development. Yet Finley’s tests had found nothing other than human in her makeup. “Best guess?”

“That the printouts state the absolute truth.”

For a human that was twenty-nine years old? Not likely. “Will you need to run more tests?”

“Definitely. We found some anomalies in her blood results that need checking out, as well.”

Gabriel flipped back several pages until he found the blood results. “An extra chromosome in her cells.” He glanced at the doctor. “We have any ideas on this one?”

“Not one. As I said, we’d like to run more tests.”

He didn’t miss the odd edge of excitement in Finley’s normally indifferent voice. Obviously, there wasn’t much excitement to be found in the labs of the SIU these days.
He smiled slightly, wondering how the young doctor would react if he ever got his hands on a kite. He put the printouts back into order and handed them back. “Where is she now?”

“Room 101.”

“Book her for more tests tomorrow. And arrange a pass for her to get back in.”

Finley nodded and headed for the door. Once the doctor had gone, Gabriel pressed the screen again. “You heard?”

Stephan appeared on the screen. His normally strong features were little more than a pale replica, and there were dark shadows beneath his green eyes. Even his normally tanned skin had a translucent quality to it. Fear stirred deep in Gabriel’s gut. The one thing the Federation couldn’t afford, the one thing
he
didn’t want, was for Stephan to get any sicker.

“Yes,” Stephan said softly. “Most interesting.”

He somehow resisted the urge to question Stephan about the state of his health and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. But it was difficult, especially when Stephan looked so close to death. He’d lost one brother recently. He didn’t want to lose another—and right now that looked like a distinct possibility. “I wonder if these anomalies are the reason Sethanon tried recruiting her last night?”

Stephan shook his head, his expression doubtful. “How would he have known? State insists on medical checks every six months for its personnel. I looked at hers this morning, and they showed no anomalies.”

“Which makes me wonder if someone is altering the results before they are placed in the system. Sethanon wouldn’t risk the life of an operative like Kazdan unless he knew this woman was a threat in some way.”

“That makes no sense. Why would anyone bother altering the results? And why would Sethanon know she was a threat, when, for all intents and purposes, she
is
human?” He hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “You know, if we do think along those lines, absurd as they seem, then it
is
always possible that last night was merely some sort of test.”

“Which again implies that he knows more about her than what is showing in the medical workups. I think the SIU needs to assign her a guard. Me, specifically.”

“People will think it strange when an assistant director is assigned guard duty.”

Gabriel smiled thinly. “They expect strangeness from me.”

It was a point Stephan didn’t bother refuting. “I’ll have Hanrahan arrange it.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated, then added softly, “When was the last time you ate, brother?”

Stephan sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. His fingers were reed thin. He’d lost a lot more weight in the week since they’d last seen each other.

“My stomach rebels every time I try.”

“What about liquid?”

“Water I can keep down. Anything else—” Stephan shrugged.

Gabriel frowned, not liking the sound of it. Stephan had been ill for close to two months now, and he was literally beginning to fade away. And though he’d been under the expert care of the Federation’s doctors, they could find no cause. Time, he thought, for a radical change of direction. He had no intention of losing his last remaining brother without a fight.

“I’m going to send a friend of mine to you. I want you to do as he asks, without question.”

Stephan groaned softly. “Not that spiritual weirdo you hang out with …”

“The very one. I’ve seen him work miracles, so no arguments.” Gabriel hesitated, then added with a grin, “Or I might set Kathleen on you.”

Kathleen was the matriarch of the Stern clan—a spry and bossy three-hundred-year-old woman who tended to sweep into your life like a cyclone. And she was probably the only person his brother was truly frightened of.

Stephan shuddered, a look of mock horror momentarily lifting the tiredness from his eyes. “God, no.”

“Then kindly take note of what Karl says.”

“I will, I will.” Stephan’s smile faded. “And I want you to be careful out on the streets. Attacks have almost doubled in the last week. Sethanon’s up to something, and until we know what it is, I’ve asked that all Federation operations be double-manned.”