(The sequel to "Dizzying
Highs and Abysmal Lows" )
11
Wednesday.
The headache began as a
dull thud behind her left eye, escalating to pile-driver proportions
over the course of the morning. Sequestered in her newly assigned
office, Kyra paused the 12 viewscreens, leaning back in her chair and
massaging her forehead. The problem with living in a Police State, she
theorised, was the secrecy and obfuscation ingrained in its psyche.
Although she had been issued with Maximum Security Clearance, wading
through cross-referenced, then re-classified documents was a veritable
nightmare, especially when they suddenly vanished into impenetrable
sealed archives.
She had begun her
investigation with her customary meticulous, analytical approach.
However, recognising the possible intuitive potential of a Prozium-free
mind, she instigated a Boolean search of the Tetragrammaton’s database.
It was going to be the minutiae that revealed the informer, no matter
how scrupulous he considered he had been. She would find him out. Of
that she was certain.
Abruptly, she pushed back
in her chair and stretched, feeling the muscles protest painfully at
the action. She needed some fresh air. The most direct route swung her
past the Hall of Precision, where the acolytes were immersed in
perfecting the Gun Katas, then through the vast imposing lobby. That
she actually collided with Cleric Preston was as much his fault as
hers, since he appeared equally preoccupied. Having politely apologised
to each other, Preston asked how her investigation was proceeding.
Working together for so long had fostered a measure of familiarity
which would not be considered inappropriate.
"Quite well, thank you,
Cleric."
"Excellent," responded
Preston. "Cleric Partridge and I are on our way to a scheduled A and R
in Sector 7."
Kyra's interest was
piqued. "How did you hear about it? Was it through the usual channels?"
Preston took a step
backward, inclining his head slightly as he regarded her intently. Very
few people would dare question a Grammaton Cleric with impunity. Kyra
blinked at his expression, then realising how she must have sounded,
immediately sought to clarify her position. Damn! The man’s mind was
like a steel trap.
"It's just that it might
have some bearing on my case, Cleric, given the information we received
regarding the previous raid."
"Hmm. I see. Very well,
Administrator. The call came via Enforcement Intelligence as normal.
Sources imply they’re heavily armed and there’s a possibility of
neo-military involvement. An additional Sweeper team is being
re-deployed, as a precaution."
"Fine. Thank you, Cleric.
I look forward to reading the A & R report." Kyra paused, wanting
to say something - anything - that would keep him in her presence a
while longer, but the moment passed in silence.
He nodded, affording her
the most fleeting of smiles as he turned to leave. She watched him
until he was out of sight, before returning to her office. Seeing him
again, even briefly, was just the breath of fresh air she'd needed!
12
Towards mid-afternoon,
whilst she was trying combinations of patterns and assumed coincidences
associated with raids in the Nether and incursions in the City itself,
a fresh-faced junior Administrative Assistant tentatively approached
with a sealed document bearing the authorisation of Vice-Council
DuPont. Inside were details of an attack on a Prozium Storage Depot in
Industrial Sector 3. From a rapid scan of the document, Kyra recognised
the tell-tale signature of the neo-militant faction. Once again, only
the base chemicals had been appropriated. She felt a stir of
excitement. If the clean-up was still in progress, she might be able to
glean some vital clue. Snatching up her car-keys and her laptop, Kyra
headed out of the office.
Ribbons of crimson and
gold threaded through the Librian sky as the white car threaded through
the early-evening cityscape. Kyra Flynn sat in the back seat, laptop
open, reading the same report for at least the fifth time. She was
keenly aware of the camera and voice recorder located just above the
driver’s rear view mirror and strove to maintain a neutral expression.
The Clerics probably never gave them a second thought, but she felt
exposed and vulnerable.
The one soothing thought
was that she had carte blanche to question whomsoever she wished.
Already, Kyra had noticed the slight shift in attitude of those around
her, the deferential nods and respectful answers, accorded to those
acting under the direct auspices of the Vice-Council. It would simplify
her task, although she was concerned that it might also arouse
Watchdog’s suspicions. Still, she reasoned that if it forced Watchdog
into making a fatal error or caused him shut down the operation
totally, there would be some traceable evidence. Or maybe she'd get
lucky at the Storage Depot.
Her gaze drifted up
towards a solitary zeppelin trundling between the monolithic structures
of the Industrial Sectors. Both the zeppelin and the buildings were a
grey canvass on which the evening sun had carelessly splashed its vivid
colours. Kyra was admiring the result, when the driver, blind to the
sun's artistry – or maybe just blinded – raised the tinted screens. She
briefly checked her watch, relieved that she would reach the Depot well
before the interval alarm beeped.
Once out of the vehicle,
the first thing Kyra noticed was the noise. The whole sector seemed
alive with the throbbing of machinery and the constant rumble of the
Industrial Transit, Libria's elevated railways – the arteries linking
the City to its working heart.
The second thing was the
proximity of the Inner City Wall. A query to the Security guards at the
entrance to the ransacked Storage Depot disclosed the distance to the
nearest gate – a mere 2 kilometres. Now that’s interesting, Kyra
thought, before striding into the Depot.
Inside, the bodies of the
guards and Depot staff had been laid out for processing. The Captain of
the official Sweeper patrol, which discovered the raid, briskly
outlined the appalling injuries with a level of impassivity bordering
on the apathetic. The degree of revulsion she experienced was tempered
only by reminding herself of her own dispassionate Prozium-deadened
nature at other, Cleric led massacres. The floor and walls were
spattered with blood, the volume and spread consistent with the use of
automatic weaponry. Forcing herself to assume the role of detached
observer, Kyra questioned the Captain on the weapon type and his answer
confirmed her suspicions.
"Only one rifle I know
makes this kind of a mess, Administrator, and that's the TR58. 5.56
calibre shell, 750 rounds per minute." He motioned to the hundreds of
shiny casings that littered the floor.
13
"I had no idea at all,
Administrator," the Depot Supervisor was saying as he walked Kyra
through the details of the raid. "Patrols are staggered as matter of
course, so I thought nothing of it when a man who claimed to be the
Sweeper Captain, came in and said we were to have an Emergency
Evacuation Drill. He had the Orders and everything."
The man had neither a
reason nor the ability to lie, Kyra concluded. He was a model citizen;
dedicated, dosed and desperately dull. He had responded with dutiful
courtesy to the presentation of her new credentials, nodding
respectfully at Vice-Council DuPont’s signature and had proceeded to
offer as much help as possible – which, unfortunately was not very
much. The only reason he was still alive was because he had needed to
visit the Personal Facilities, just before the EED began. When the
shooting started, he stayed there. Kyra didn't blame him. The official
patrol arrived some 40 minutes later. They had confirmed that their
route and patrol times were routinely scrambled.
Kyra pulled out her
notebook and pencil.
"So what, exactly, was
taken and how was it removed?"
The man snapped to
attention.
"30 barrels of base
material. They rolled them onto the delivery truck which was scheduled
to take finished Prozium to Clinic 9, tomorrow. There would have been
60 barrels, but fortunately, an early-morning request from our Factory
meant we had to ship out the other 30."
"Fortunate, indeed."
"What I don't understand,
Administrator, is what they want with the base stuff?"
Kyra fixed the Supervisor
with a look that she'd borrowed from Cleric Preston and the man's
curiosity visibly evaporated. There was little more to be gained from
the Depot. She requested that any further details be forwarded to her
office and decided to check out the City gate before the light
disappeared completely. It was doubtful that the Guards would be able
to expand on what she already knew – that a Sweeper tanker and a black
truck, both with official orders and motor-cycle escort, passed through
the gate. Watchdog was certainly resourceful!
As night crawled over the
City walls, seeking dark adventures, the Sector's floodlights drove it
steadily back, until it was reduced to playing mere shadow games with
the buildings. Her driver took the gate road out of IS3 as Kyra leaned
against the white seat back and closed her eyes. The gentle hum of the
engine snuggled inside her head, making a pillow of her tumbled
thoughts. She was asleep before the car passed the Storage Depot.
14
Vasily hurled the black
helmet across the oily floor, narrowly missing a scowling Jared. It
came to a shattered rest against the rear wheel of the long black
delivery truck. Cursing loudly, he stormed round to the back of the
vehicle where half a dozen men in Sweeper attire were rolling the
barrels out onto moveable pallets.
"Thirty barrels! Thirty!
There were supposed to be at least sixty! Sixty! And we have just
thirty! This is...catastrophic!" Vasily viciously kicked the helmet
back towards Jared.
"So 'ow was I to frickin'
know?" yelled Jared, jumping to avoid the rolling helmet. "You're the
only one Watchdog ever frickin' talks to! He should'a known!"
Carson and Ellis busied
themselves at the far side of the single storey lock-up, removing the
Ident numbers from the Sweeper tanker. Carson was prattling on about
his call to Clancy and the obvious success of the diversion. They had
never seen Vasily come unhinged before. Privately, Lisle, once more in
his slovenly Ellis persona, pondered whether this would benefit or
hinder his plans. He realised DuPont had acted judiciously in ordering
the removal of the other 30 barrels, as Vasily would most likely try to
contact Watchdog. Perhaps that would hasten his identification. The
Chemist was still due tomorrow. Yes, perhaps it was beneficial. He
wouldn't be able to take out the entire group, but the Chemist was his
priority. Any additional help would be a bonus. He scratched his scar
absently. Vasily was still screaming obscenities. It was going to be a
long night
Day IV - Thursday 
