Parrino stewed in the precinct’s workout room. Mak had called in sick for the day. Granted, virtual life models were perfect, down to the simulated need for sleep and occasional illness if parameters were not strictly adhered to, but this felt too convenient. Mak’s first sick day in five years, and the first time the two of them had come to an argument over “gut feelings” on a case. He failed to understand the reasoning, especially from someone who had spent almost a century dissecting people’s motives and personalities.
He was sure his judgment was sound. Yes, the girl was involved. Yes, she had lied to them about being involved. Mak assumed maliciousness or at least culpability. Parrino couldn’t make that leap. The girl just didn’t “feel” like a murderer to him, despite circumstantial evidence.
The Division 4 takeover of the case reeked of something shady; Parrino just couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d heard stories about Division 4 that made his hair stand on end. Heck, he’d met a few Division agents in the past that creeped him out. On the two occasions he was invited to apply to Division 4, he’d turned it down for those reasons, instantly regretting taking that moral high ground. Policemen weren’t always perfect, and so-called “bad cops” dated all the way back to the Sheriff of Nottingham, possibly earlier. Still, by and large, they were citizens of the neighborhood looking out for citizens of the neighborhood. Despite what he kept telling himself, he did want to be a Division agent. He didn’t know what kind of agent he would be without the neighborhood.
Tonight, however, was desk duty. He hadn’t filed his report from the Arco construction site but knew that Mak would have filed one in perfect recall from his own memory almost instantaneously before clocking out for the night. He was sure he wouldn’t be adding much to that except his perspective on Serah Wyles’ likely involvement, which was moot now that the case had been transferred. She was still the part that bothered him most out of all of this. Maybe he really was having a lapse of judgment over a pretty face. This went beyond trying to protect a partner, however. Mak should have at least given his theories consideration instead of telling him to drop it.
Chief Inspector Somerset strode purposefully into the room, still dressed in work clothes. He hastily acknowledged the others, and took a seat on the weight bench next to Parrino’s. Both men glared at each other, neither giving up the satisfaction of making the other be the first to speak. Parrino took small satisfaction from winning that pointless battle.
“Parrino, most people answer the comm when their chief inspector pages them, especially if they’re not doing anything other than skulking on an exercise machine,” Somerset said with a sigh.
Parrino winced. “Sorry, Chief Inspector.”
“And did you really coerce one of the Audreys into working on a case you were removed from? Do you know how much I hate dealing with her neurotic ramblings when she’s guilt-wracked for breaking procedure like that? I spent twenty minutes trying to calm her down and had to give her two days’ leave.”
“Sorry again, chief inspector,” Parrino said flatly.
“You really think you have something that will help the Feds? This Soranus angle?”
Parrino took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I think the ‘Soranus angle’ has legs. I don’t know what Division 4 already knows. I’m not even sure if they’re trying to solve the murder or bury all evidence of it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The sloppy way they took over. No transition, no explanation. They didn’t even want to debrief us. They just took the notes and scans and sent us on our way. I think they already had everything they wanted. It was more important to them that we not be there.”
“You’ll put that in your report?”
“Are you asking me to, sir?”
“Your partner has already handed me his. He doesn’t agree with your assessment, particularly regarding this reporter.”
“I’m not surprised. Look, chief inspector, I can explain–”
“I’m not interested in explanations or excuses. I don’t care if you want to give the Feds a black eye. I don’t even care if you do a little detective work on your own time. What I do care about is that two of my best detectives didn’t even question how two Division agents managed to arrive at a murder scene with a jurisdictional transfer before the investigating officers had reported any of the details back to HQ.”
Parrino tried to disguise his shock. How had he missed that?
“I should probably knock you down a peg for that, but you had your mind elsewhere, I guess. I can’t stop you from freelancing and doing Division 4’s work for them, but as long as you’re on my clock, you work the cases I tell you to work.”
“Understood, chief inspector,” Parrino said, deflated.
Somerset paused. “No, no. That’s where you’re supposed to say, ‘Oh yeah? What case is that, chief inspector? You haven’t given me any cases,’ in your usual smart-assed tone.”
Parrino smiled again. “In that case, sir, I don’t think I’ll give you that satisfaction now.”
“Are you sure? Because I think you’re really going to like this one: assault and battery. The victim is in recovery in Bay 12 at KC Med. Why don’t you visit him?”
Parrino pulled out a datapad and wrote down the location. Interviewing a battery victim was better than desk duty. “Yeah, sure, chief inspector. What’s the victim’s name?”
“Special Agent Nolan Foucan of Division 4. I believe you’re acquainted. Now, get moving.”
The Kensington Chelsea Medical Center was the smallest of three hospitals serving the dome and by far the oldest. In fact, if Parrino had to guess, he would say much of the architecture was original and dated back over a century. This wasn’t the hospital you went to if you needed radical, life-saving surgery; this was the hospital you went to if you needed a low-key patch job – which was why he was surprised to see a Division 4 agent, particularly with the injuries Foucan had sustained, hiding out here.
Following a quick briefing from the floor nurse, Parrino entered Bay 12. Foucan was reclined at 45 degrees in a lifebed. From the neck down, his body was motionless inside a shimmering suspension field. Externally, he didn’t look the worse for wear, with only slight discoloration remaining from what had been painful bruises and broken bones a few hours earlier. His face was still slightly swollen, but not to the point that Parrino didn’t recognize him instantly. Various tubes protruded from multiple points on his body, feeding him whatever drugs or nanobots were needed to repair the unseen internal damage. These were periodically adjusted by robot arms that extended from under the lifebed and carefully monitored by nurses at the station up the hall.
Screw it, Parrino thought. His personal feelings for the man were one thing, but he hated to see anyone, especially a fellow cop, beaten to within an inch of his life and left for dead. He decided that, despite their differences and his view of Division 4, he would find the person who did this and bring him in.
Foucan, barely able to turn his head, caught him out of the corner of his eye. “Ah, Sergeant Parrino,” he smiled. “Very good of you to come see me. You will forgive me if I do not get up?” He laughed and immediately winced in pain. Parrino realized this was the first time he’d heard Foucan speak, and the familiarity caught him off guard. After all, the French were known for being very haughty toward the British.
“Special Agent Foucan,” Parrino began, “I’m sorry this happened to you on my watch. I promise you I will—”
“No, no, no, Sergeant,” Foucan said quickly, “I find it is I who owe you an apology, and for that, I will now make amends as best as I can.”
“Amends?” Parrino asked.
“Yes, you see, I have come to learn that my partner and I were not authorized to take over your case or the Galloway case.”
“What?!” Parrino’s response showed more anger than he felt. Secretly, he expected as much and was relieved that his instincts were correct. He couldn’t wait to tell Mak.
“I don’t fully understand it myself. You see, we were assigned to shadow an assassin for hire who had just arrived on Earth.”
“Viktor Olzos, AKA: Soranus?” Parrino offered.
Foucan smiled, impressed. “You’d make a good agent, Sergeant. We had intel that he had arrived in France and was visiting and researching a half dozen churches and religious sites. We had assumed that meant his target was a high-ranking religious figure of some sort, and he was scouting locations. Either way, his travel pattern was scattershot, almost random, so we were never able to predict his location, and we always arrived just before he’d moved on to the next site.”
“Why was he targeting religious sites in France if his target was an off-world scientist in London?”
“We never found that part out. One morning, Ducard called me and said that he’d found Soranus. We went straight to a hotel in Paris. Sure enough, he was holed up in his room. He was crazed, raving mad, screaming to himself in the corner of the room, terrified of something.”
Parrino nodded. “Where is he now?”
“Secure in a holding area at Division 4’s Office in Paris, heavily sedated.”
“Wait, so if you have Soranus, then who killed this Halferne guy using his gun?”
Foucan nodded. “That’s where it gets interesting. Ducard told me Soranus had confessed in interrogation that he had allies in London who were carrying out his mission to assassinate a Halferne. Our orders were to go to London, secure the doctor, and bring him back to Paris.”
Parrino was busy taking notes. “That was when?”
“Four days ago. I liaised with security at the starports and transit stations to locate Halferne. Ducard was following up with his connections with the black market and underground.”
“In-Phrame or Root Realm?” Parrino asked.
“I was exclusively in-Phrame from our local office. Ducard did some work in-Phame, but he exclusively handled the street work. Many of these connections must be made in person. I’m sure you understand. Anyway, after three days, Ducard had a solid lead, which led us both to the Arco construction site, where we met you and your partner. Obviously, we were a couple of days too late to stop the assassin.”
“So, at what point did you realize you were operating off-book then?”
“As soon as I got back to our hotel, I received a message from our director. Your Chief Inspector Somerset called our office to protest the jurisdictional transfer, which was the first anyone at Division had heard about the London connection. Ducard, or someone he was working with, had faked the orders and the jurisdictional transfer. As far as our bureau knew, we were still in France, still trying to find whoever hired Seraunos.”
“So you think Ducard is working with someone on the inside at Division 4?”
“I assure you it would require far more skills with slicing and security protocols than he has. It is a reasonable assumption.”
“I assume you confronted him about it.”
“Of course,” Foucan laughed slightly. “How do you think I ended up here?”
“Ducard did this to you?” Parrino asked incredulously, realizing this should have been his first question.
“He was … not himself. He was panicked. Enraged. I tried to reason with him and discover why he had done such things. He was paranoid, completely detached from reality. Kept blaming that reporter girl, saying she was the key to the network and needed to be brought in for questioning so they could find the rest. The more I tried to calm him down, the more violent he got. Then he did this.” Foucan tried to gesture at himself. “After that, you understand, things get a little fuzzy for me.” He chuckled and winced in pain once again.
“A network? As near as we can tell, Serah Wyles is just a reporter. She knew Halferne and Galloway, but what’s the connection between the three of them? What made Ducard think she was the key?”
“I have no idea. I had never even heard her name until Ducard said it the night we met you. I briefly looked into her for my report, but as you say, on the surface, she is just a reporter; Galloway was just a salesman; if that was really Halferne that was killed, well, he’s been dead for twenty years already. How Ducard knew her name or what he knew about her involvement, he wouldn’t say, but based on his temperament and words, I don’t think he intends to arrest her. I think he means to do her harm.”
Parrino felt his face flush. “Thank you, Special Agent. I think I have quite enough now. I appreciate your help. You know how to reach me if you can think of anything else.” He was out of the room before he could hear Foucan’s response.
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