Tears in Rain (12 page)

“Sit down, Husky,” she commanded without turning around.

There was a fake-leather armchair and a red acrylic chair. The detective chose the plastic chair. A few interminable moments passed without anything happening, and then Valo turned around. It was a given that she wasn’t ugly. All technos had regular, even features (sometimes Bruna felt that this was one of the reasons why humans didn’t like them), but they weren’t all equally attractive. The head of security, for example, was rather unattractive. Combat replicants were flat-chested, because it worked out better when they had to fight, but Nabokov had enormous implants in her breasts, which she carried very high and barely covered, making them look like a large tray of meat underneath her square, pale face.

“Tell me something,” she shot out.

“About what?”

“You’ve been working for us for two days. Tell me what you’ve discovered. Tell me who did this to her.”

“I don’t know anything yet.”

The woman fixed her blazing eyes on Bruna. Huge bags under her eyes darkened her face.

“You’ve lost her. It’s your fault. She was your responsibility and you’ve done nothing.”

“Chi didn’t hire me to protect her but to investigate the deaths of the reps. Her security was your responsibility.”

Valo closed her eyes with an almost imperceptible expression of pain. Then she looked at Bruna again, with the face of a madwoman. Her bun was half-undone, and she looked like one of the furies on the ancient medallions that Yiannis had once shown her.

“Get out.”

“Hold on a minute, Nabokov. I’m sorry about your loss, but it’s important that we talk—”

“Get out!”

“Myriam called me yesterday. I think she had something to tell me; maybe she’d discovered something. She told me to come and see her this morning at nine o’clock.”

Valo stared at her and Bruna ended up lowering her gaze. She noticed the android’s hands: big, bony, trembling. Twitching hands that, remarkably, seemed to be covered with dark, regular freckles. No, they weren’t freckles; they were tiny, half-healed wounds, perhaps burns.

“But you didn’t make it,” Valo whispered.

“What?”

“To the appointment at nine. You didn’t make it.”

Bruna became embarrassed.

“True. I...was held up. And then I saw the news.”

And at this totally inappropriate moment, the little thought that had been eluding her earlier popped up inside the detective’s
head. It wasn’t just strange that Hericio would have so much information, it was also odd that Chi would have it. How had the rep leader come to know so much? And how was it that each of them knew that all the individuals concerned had inserted adulterated mems? Who would have provided them with information that only the police knew? When all was said and done, maybe the conspiracy theories were based on something real. Moreover, the victims’ obsession with eyes couldn’t be the result of a chance deterioration in the mems.

All these thoughts went through Bruna’s mind in an instant as Valo walked around the table and dropped wearily into the chair next to the screen. Then she raised her head and looked fiercely at Bruna.

“You’re fired.”

“Fired?”

“Get out of here. Right now.”

Damn, I’m going to be stuck with the 3,000 Gs the artificial memory cost me
, Bruna thought initially in a twinge of financial anxiety. And immediately afterward, she thought,
But it can’t be. I don’t want to drop this matter. I’ve got to clear up what’s happened. I have to keep investigating.

“Fine, I’m going, but before I go, please answer one question. How did Chi find out about—?”

“There’s nothing more to discuss. You don’t work for us any longer. You’re off the case. Keep the advance. That way we’re even. And now get out of here!”

No, they weren’t even, because Bruna had been crazy enough to buy a mem on the black market, but this wasn’t the best moment to talk about expenses. Valo seemed to be beside herself. The detective got up and left the room, more irritated by all the questions she hadn’t been able to ask than by the harshness of her sudden dismissal. She was heading quickly down the corridor toward the exit, lost in thought and chewing over her doubts, when she bumped into Habib, the rep leader’s personal assistant.
She had met him two days ago. He was the one who had provided her with the information about the first deaths and about how she would be paid. He was a brilliant and charming exploration techno. It would have been easy to flirt with him were it not for the fact that Bruna had no wish to be on close terms with any android again.

“Well, well, Husky, where are you off to in such a hurry? I was on my way to find you.”

“I’ve just been fired. If that’s what you were on your way to do, it’s already done.”

Habib opened his eyes wide in surprise. “What are you saying? Was it Valo? Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s gone mad, and I can understand why. We’re all a bit unhinged. It’s been a terrible blow.”

His voice shook a little, perhaps on the verge of breaking.

“Yes, it’s affected me too,” responded Bruna.

“Don’t go, Bruna. We need you more than ever now. Come on, let’s go to my office.”

All the RRM rooms were the same austere, monastic, militant cells, as if ornamentations were ideologically forbidden. But at least there was a small spray of mimosa in a vase on Habib’s table.

“Is it real?”

The man gave a half-smile.

“It’s a holograph. Speaking of which, I believe you still have Myriam’s holograph ball, the one with the threat.”

Bruna remembered that she had left a detailed analysis program of the images running. It should be just about done by now, and she hadn’t seen the results yet.

“Yes. I was running the last few tests. I’ll return it this afternoon. So, am I still on the case or not?”

“Of course you’re still on it. I’ll speak with Valo. Anyway, she doesn’t have the authority to fire you.”

“Do
you
?”

“I do, but I’m not going to. If what you’re asking about is the power structure within the RRM now that Myriam is dead, I can tell you that I’m her successor until we hold an extraordinary meeting, which I’ve just called. It will be in two weeks’ time.”

“And then what will happen?”

“Most likely, they’ll ratify me in the position. But that doesn’t mean I murdered Myriam so that I could take her place,” he added with a dry laugh devoid of any joy.

“Murdered?”

“I’m convinced she would never have injected herself with a mem.”

“So am I. By the way, speaking of adulterated memories, how did you find out about the earlier cases?”

“That was Myriam’s doing. She came in one day with the information. She was very worried.”

“But who provided it?”

“I don’t know. All she told me was that someone reliable had given it to her.”

“Weren’t you surprised she knew about the mems? They’re something you can only know about if you have access to the official autopsy reports.”

“Well, no, it didn’t surprise me at all. Myriam always was extremely well informed. She had confidants and contacts everywhere. She even had the odd memorist friend. She was an extraordinary woman.”

In fact, it wasn’t all that difficult, reflected Bruna; she herself had accessed the report on Cata Caín. As to the memorist, she couldn’t help but think about Pablo Nopal.

“When was the last time you saw her, Habib?”

“She came to my office yesterday afternoon. There were things we had to decide about the RRM, work-related matters. But I found her very nervous, very distracted. I asked her if she was okay, and we began talking about the deaths. Then she got up and left. She said she was very tired and she was thinking about
going home soon to sleep. But she didn’t leave, or at least not by the main entrance. Her bodyguards hung around waiting until midnight, and when they went upstairs to get her, they couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“How come they waited so long?”

“She often stayed late working on her own.”

“And they weren’t concerned when they didn’t find her?”

“Yes, they were worried, and they called me. I got onto Nabokov, who knew nothing either, because Chi hadn’t come home. That was when we got really frightened. And rightly so.”

They stopped talking for a few seconds while violent images of Myriam’s death flashed blindingly inside their heads and the space between them seemed to acquire a blood-red brilliance.

“At what time was your conversation with Chi?”

“Between about 18:00 and 19:00. I was the last person to see her alive.”

Bruna tried to hold back a small start. Myriam’s call had been at 18:30.

“Are you sure?”

Habib smiled. He, too, had huge bags under his eyes and looked haggard.

“Absolutely. And you don’t have to hide your surprise. I was there when she rang you, Husky. Moreover, I know what she wanted to tell you.”

He paused dramatically, something Bruna found difficult to endure.

“It’s possible...You have to promise to keep all this a complete secret, Husky; there’s too much at stake. So, there is unfortunately a possibility that some reps may be implicated in the deaths. It’s not exactly the best news for our movement, but I’m afraid there’s considerable evidence.”

“What are you saying? Implicated how? What evidence are you talking about?”

“There have always been violent reps, as you know. And if you want me to be honest, I understand it perfectly, because the marginalization and disdain that humans subject us to are hard to bear. But in the RRM we’re not in favor of violence, either ethically or strategically. The intention of our movement is precisely to provide a democratic stage for the battle, for the dignity and equality of our species.”

Bruna suppressed a gesture of impatience. “Sure, sure, I know. But we were talking about proof.”

“The lock on Myriam’s office was manipulated by a rep from Complet, our maintenance company. The door register was altered so that it wouldn’t record the code of the person who put the holograph ball on the table.”

“Have you spoken with the company?”

“Our technicians discovered the lock manipulation yesterday morning, and we immediately went to the Complet head office. We got there just minutes too late. They’d obviously fled in a real hurry after they’d wiped their databases.”

“A most opportune escape.”

Habib sighed.

“Yes, I thought so, too. I find it very hard to believe, but it’s possible that someone from the RRM warned them of our visit. The problem is that it could have been just about anyone, because lots of people knew about it: the technicians, some members of the council, Valo’s crew...”

“Valo’s crew?”

“The combat reps who make up our security team. You already know we’ve had numerous assaults. Yesterday, we took ten of our team to the Complet head office, just in case.”

“How long have you been working with Complet?”

“Four or five months. I can get you the exact date. But, in any case, the company’s involvement seems to suggest it’s not just a question of an isolated act of violence against an individual but something much more complex, sophisticated, and meticulously
organized. And there’s something else. Did you see that fanatic, Hericio, on the news?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it strange that he would be talking about all those things right now? And doesn’t it seem odd to you that’s he’s so well informed? We know Hericio has been meeting with a rep.”

“How do you know?”

The corners of Habib’s mouth twitched wryly and he waved his hand gently in the air.

“Well, let’s just say that we try to be fully abreast of our enemy’s activities. And one of our people saw Hericio meeting the rep in a public, if discrete, place.”

The armchairs under the skylight in the Museum of Modern Art flashed into Bruna’s mind.

“Where did they meet?”

“A sky-tram stop. Is that particularly important?”

The detective shook her head, feeling a little foolish.

“The fact is that we believe it may have been one of the Complet employees. It’s a company composed exclusively of androids. We always try to work with our own. Anyway, Myriam thought that the HSP had somehow managed to buy off that miserable lot. And that it’s all a scheme to discredit our movement, to create an antitechno climate of opinion that would favor their party.”

Bruna thought this over for a moment.

“Sounds plausible. The trouble is, Habib, that we can’t rule out that it might be a new group of terrorist reps.”

“But why would they attack other technohumans?”

“To frighten the androids and make them think that we’re dealing with a supremacist conspiracy, as you said yourself. To radicalize the reps and unleash violence between the species.”

“Hmmm, yes. Maybe...In any event, it’s critical that we clarify what’s happening as quickly as possible. Because there’s no question that social tension is growing all the time. Myriam was
well aware of the urgency, and that’s why she rang you yesterday. I know what she wanted to ask you: that you investigate the HSP, and Hericio in particular. By the way, I think the sight of Hericio on the news this morning adds weight to Chi’s theory.”

Bruna agreed, slowly. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

They stood up, and Habib escorted her to the door of the office. Barely two steps, in such a small room. Before she left, Bruna turned to him.

“Just one more question. What’s the matter with Nabokov’s hands?”

The man frowned and stood looking at her as if weighing up his answer.

“Valo’s unwell,” he said, finally. “She’s...she’s beginning to show the signs of TTT. Or that’s what we think, because she’s refused to see a doctor. She’s going to a healer instead. Those marks are the bites of a viper. An African viper whose venom is said to cure rep cancer. Well, you know how these things are.”

Yes, Bruna knew. The inevitability and ferocity of TTT meant that many androids looked for miracle cures, and a disordered and motley market of alternative treatments and shady therapists flourished around the technos. Like all reps, she too was sent unsolicited publicity from a horde of charlatans who promised to get rid of tumors via magnetism, gamma rays, chromatic therapies, or animal toxins, as in Nabokov’s case. But as far as she was aware, to date no one had been able to save themselves from the early death.