Justice Keepers Saga--Books 1-3, page 47
Baring his teeth with a hiss, Harry shut his eyes. He shook his head in response to the question. “It's hard to say, kiddo,” he replied. “We just keep trying different things till something works.”
“Oh.”
“Hopefully he left some clue behind.”
Claire sat upright, clutching the sheets to her chest, suddenly fixated on the window across the foot of her bed. It was almost enough to make Harry jump, but even he didn't think this terrorist had come to his house. “Didn't you tell me one time that the police have people's IDs on file?”
“Yes.”
His daughter looked over her shoulder with a resolute expression, convinced that she had found something. “Couldn't you use the computer to match up his picture with the IDs you have?”
Smart kid.
“We've tried that,” Harry explained, kneeling down next to her bed. Head hanging, he felt a sigh explode from his lungs. “It didn't work. If he's one of the Leyrians, we won't have his picture on file.”
“So ask Jack.”
It was difficult not to grin. Covering his face with one hand, Harry allowed himself to chuckle. “We're already doing that, Claire,” he replied. “But the galaxy is a big place, and there are lots of people in it.”
“Oh.”
It took some doing, but he managed to make her lie back down and relax. The girl asked so many questions you might have thought she intended to pursue a career in law enforcement. Perhaps she will, Harry noted. She had come up with a solid investigation technique all on her own. Maybe detective skills were genetic.
He was going to have to talk with Jack and Jena tomorrow. The kid had been pretty worked up when the murder of the two guards hit the news. Jack seemed to take each and every one of these attacks as a personal failure on his part. Harry understood that impulse all too well. This was his city.
Harry had met many Keepers in the last few years, and most of them had been aloof and unapproachable. He chalked it up to culture clash. Hunter, at least was a Keeper that he could trust, and he was beginning to feel the same way about this Jena Morane. There was something about her… A lack of guile.
Harry sighed.
He missed Lenai. The girl had been a massive pain in the ass and far too willing to get up on her high horse, but he had come to see her as a woman of integrity. In truth, she reminded him of himself. He'd lectured Jack on the importance of being a team player, but a good cop had to be willing to butt heads with his superiors when politics got in the way of justice.
What would it be like to get the old team back together? When last he'd spoken to Aamani, she was working as a liaison to Keepers out in Western Canada. Take it easy there, Carlson, he cautioned himself. First we'd need to find Lenai.
11
Blinds along the windows segmented daylight into thin bands that fell upon a long table where half a dozen CSIS agents sat exchanging glances with twice as many RCMP officers. Peter Tombs was present as well.
The Minister of Justice wore a fine black suit with a gray shirt, and sunlight glinted off the lenses of his glasses. Jack had been watching the man for the last five minutes. Everything depended on swaying him to their way of thinking.
Jena stood at the head of the table.
Dressed to kill in a black skirt and purple blouse, she kept her hands behind her back as she ran her gaze over everyone present. “The situation has changed,” she said. “Our guy has come into the open. He wants to be seen, and he wants everyone to fear what he might do next.”
Peter Tombs sat with his elbows on the armrests of his chair, his fingers laced together. “Agent Hunter,” he said, swiveling to face Jack. “You told us that this man's goal was to sow chaos. Do you still believe that?”
Chewing on his lip, Jack felt the blood drain out of his face. He closed his eyes and nodded his agreement. “I do,” he answered. “The use of Leyrian technology is flaunted in every one of these cases.”
“If that's the case,” Tombs replied, “I'm going to recommend we close our borders to all off-world visitors.”
Jack looked up at the man with his mouth open, blinking in disbelief. “You cannot be serious,” he said. “That's exactly what he wants! If you do that, you're playing right into his hand!”
“I am deadly serious.”
Tiffany Sanchez, a young CSIS agent with copper skin and black hair that she wore in a ponytail, frowned down at the stack of papers in front of her. “If we pursue that kind of policy,” she began, “it will almost certainly damage Leyrian credibility.”
Tombs shot a glare in her direction, his face growing redder as he spoke. “I am not all that concerned with Leyrian credibility at the moment,” he snapped. “This city is on the verge of tearing itself apart.”
“You should be concerned.”
Leave it to Jena to bust up growing hostilities with a single, well-timed sentence. The sound of her voice brought silence to the room. Jack quickly made a mental note to remember that latest trick. Remain silent and let a few people get the hot air out of their systems before taking charge.
His boss had moved to the window and now stood in the dim light that came in through the blinds. “Remember what I told you, Mr. Tombs,” she added. “My people are by no means perfect, but without our presence, your planet is easy pickings for nations with less benign motivations.”
Tombs gritted his teeth, bowing his head as if he didn't want to look at her. “Yes, Director Morane, I remember,” he said with a nod. “That doesn't change the fact that we have an emergency situation on our hands.”
“No, it doesn't,” she said. “So let's discuss options.”
The meeting continued with several high-ranking officers debating plans to find this terrorist and bring him in. Wendy Connors, head of the RCMP's anti-terrorism task force, had drafted plans for a sting operation.
A plump little woman in black pants and a gray blouse, Wendy had blonde hair and thick glasses. “I believe we should focus on the drug you call Amps,” she said from the back of the room. “Have some of our undercover officers in narcotics division make a few discreet inquiries as to where they can buy some. This may flush him out.”
Jena leaned against the wall with her arms folded, shaking her head. “That won't work,” she replied. “You'll only be putting your people in danger. He's more likely to kill anyone who tries to approach him.”
Harry, who had been silent until this point, sat in the back in a gray suit and black shirt with the collar unbuttoned. “You said he wants to sow chaos,” he began. “Wouldn't distributing the drug fit with that agenda?”
“It's unlikely,” Jena said. “Once you start taking Amps, you have to keep taking it or face serious health problems. The drug isn't something you can manufacture in the back of a trailer. You'd need access to a sophisticated laboratory in addition to all of the research on the subject.”
“In other words,” Wendy added, “he's not willing to part with the drug for fear of running out. If he's so reluctant to share, what convinced him to make an exception in the case of Ricky Sykes?”
Jack felt an immediate pang of irritation at the realization that he should have been asking the same question. Was there something about Ricky that made him a useful agent of chaos? He filed that away for further consideration.
Peter Tombs wore a scowl that could crack stone. He sat hunched over and stroking his jaw with the tips of his fingers. “We need to do something,” he muttered. “Can you suggest an alternative to Superintendent Connor's plan?”
Leaning against the wall, Jena bowed her head and sighed. “This man wants attention,” she began. “He's going to come to us, and we need to be ready when he shows up. I'm reviewing the security measures for hospitals, schools and all of the other locations he mentioned in his message. I plan to bolster them with Keeper support.”
“That hardly seems proactive,” Tombs replied.
She looked up at him with determination on her face, squinting when she made eye contact. “I've also got my best people going over every last centimetre of the crime scene,” she said, “searching for any clue as to where this man's been and where he might go next.”
Tombs shifted his attention back to Jack. “And you?” he asked with a thin, raised eyebrow. “Do you also believe that improved security is the best we can do in light of this threat?”
Jack wrinkled his nose, shaking his head in dismay. “I'm not the best person to ask,” he answered. “But I can tell you this. No one in this room understands the situation better than Director Morane.”
He was new at this, but Jack suspected the other man's question had been designed to test Keeper solidarity. Politicians, he noticed, often fell victim to what he called 'The Busy Hands Fallacy.' When a crisis happened, they had to do something. It didn't matter what, so long as they did something.
Of course, more often than not, it was the wrong thing. Terrorism had a way of bringing out the reactionary side in otherwise rational people. He was beginning to think that Tombs was no exception to this rule.
The man wore a frown as he lowered his eyes to stare into his lap. By the look of concentration on his face, it was clear that he was weighing the pros and cons. “We'll go forward with both plans,” he said at last. “Ms. Connors, have your undercover officers make discreet inquiries as to where they can purchase Amps.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As for the rest, we'll double our security measures. Director Morane, if you can have some of your Justice Keepers assist our people, it will be greatly appreciated.”
With that, the meeting came to an end.
The afternoon sun felt warm despite the presence of fluffy clouds in the sky. Even though autumn was only weeks away, it shone down on the little strip mall with a ferocity like that of midsummer.
The downtown branch of Capitol Credit Union was roped off with yellow police tape, and several uniformed officers stood in the lot. One had a relaxed pose, standing with hands on hips and chewing gum as he stared into the distance.
Jack couldn't really blame him. These cops weren't here to investigate; their only function was to keep the average bystander away. He wondered about the employees of Capitol Credit. What must they be thinking with their branch closed for an investigation that involved both federal agents and Justice Keepers?
Jack got out of his car.
He still wore the black pants, gray V-necked shirt and jacket that he had worn to the meeting. Keepers had a great deal of latitude in the clothing they chose – at least by Earth standards – but there were times when one had to dress to impress. Sadly, in this weather, it made him more aware of the heat.
Jack winced, sweat matting dark hair to his brow. “Just wonderful,” he said. “You couldn't have given me mild weather with a nice cool breeze? That was too much to ask?”
As he drew near, two of the uniformed officers turned to face him. “Agent Hunter,” one said, looking him up and down. “Miss Layson was just saying she wanted a moment to talk to you.”
“That so?” Jack asked. “Mind getting her for me?”
They let him duck under the police tape and left him to wait for several minutes while one officer stalked off to find the head of the forensics team. She came flitting out of the building maybe two minutes later.
Ali Layson was a petite woman in a denim skirt and white sleeveless blouse. Her copper-skinned face was framed by short auburn hair, and the glasses she wore almost made her look cute. “Agent Hunter,” she said.
Lifting his chin, Jack held her gaze for a brief moment. “Miss Layson,” he said with a curt nod. “Please tell me you've found something that might point us in the right direction.”
Ali frowned, shaking her head. She reached up to brush hair out of her face. “I'm afraid not,” she replied. “Not much has changed since my report to you last evening. The nanobots our perpetrator used match a model of multi-tool that was discontinued nearly eight years ago.”
“DNA?”
“Scanners have found skin flakes on the floor, hair follicles and the odd eyelash. We've identified the DNA of twenty-three separate individuals, but most cannot be matched to anyone in particular. Your people have not created extensive genetic records.”
He folded his arms, frowning down at himself. “What do you expect?” he said with a shrug. “We've only had access to scanning technology for three years, and most people are uncomfortable with the thought of putting their DNA on record.”
Ali's mouth twisted as she studied him through the lenses of her glasses. On Leyria, samples of genetic material were taken from every infant at birth. Obviously she couldn't understand why Earth wouldn't adopt the same practice. “As you say,” she replied at last. “If you'll follow me.”
Ali turned around and made her way back to the building's front entrance like a humming bird darting from flower to flower. “My people have scanned nearly every last inch of the foyer,” she explained. “As of yet, we have found nothing to identify the man who committed the attack.”
Once inside, Jack found himself in a well-lit lobby with a line of teller stations on his left and a reception desk on his right. The small offices along the back wall no doubt belonged to the loan officers.
“Mind if I scan the lock?”
Ali froze in midstep.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she watched him with an expression so sour, you might have thought she'd swallowed a fly. “For what purpose?” she inquired. “I promise you my people have been quite thorough.”
“Humour me, Ali.”
It wasn't that he didn't trust the forensics team to do their jobs; he just felt the need to verify things with his own eyes. For months now, he had been living with the sinking suspicion that his superiors were hiding things from him. Breslan's reluctance to go after Petrov was just one of many things that didn't add up for him.
She led him back to the front entrance where a pair of forensic technicians who had been scanning the floor for genetic material leaped out of the way. One shot a glance over his shoulder to scowl at Jack. Apparently some people didn't like to be interrupted. Well, to be honest, Jack was one of those people.
He found the lock in the thick metal door.
Rolling up his jacket sleeve, he exposed the gauntlet on his left forearm. “Multi-tool active,” Jack barked. “Commence level three scan, listing all anomalies biological and technological.”
The little metal disk on his gauntlet spat out a laser beam that swept over the lock in a slow, gentle caress, almost like a bar-code scanner. After several passes, the laser went out and his tool let out a beep.
When he checked the screen, he found the wire-frame outline of a small device that looked almost like a beetle. No doubt about it. That was a nanobot. Not much bigger than a grain of sand, it would be almost undetectable to the human eye.
His tool detected five of them in the keyhole. Sometimes nanobots broke off of the objects they fabricated. The average multi-tool contained thousands, and they could be easily replaced.
His readouts confirmed what Ali had told him. This nanobot was property of an XJ-11, a multi-tool that had been discontinued over seven years ago. So that meant their perpetrator was likely scrounging for technology.
Ali watched him with a grimace, squinting behind the lenses of her glasses. “I take it you're satisfied,” she said. “Perhaps now you will accept my reports at face value and not waste my time with redundant scans.”
Jack grinned, his cheeks suddenly very warm. He pressed a hand to his forehead, then raked fingers through his hair. “Yes, I've learned my lesson,” he assured her. “What else do we know about-”
Her multi-tool chirped.
Lifting her forearm, Ali frowned at the readout. “Well, isn't that interesting,” she said, her eyebrows climbing. “It seems that one of my lab technicians has discovered an anomaly in the DNA samples.”
She tapped away at the tool's display screen without giving him a chance to ask her to clarify. Seconds later, Ali let her arm drop, and a holographic projection wavered into existence right next to her.
The image was of a young man with fair skin and dark hair. The fact that Jack could only see him from the chest up suggested that he was sitting. “Ali,” he said with surprise in his voice. “You got my report?”
Ali pressed her lips together, nodding slowly in response. “I did,” she said, turning to face the image with arms folded. “Perhaps you should share your findings with Agent Hunter. I think he would rather hear it from you.”
The young man pressed a fist to his mouth, clearing his throat as he wheeled back from his desk. “On a hunch, I checked the samples against Human Genome Archives,” he explained. “Some of the skin flakes belong to a man who is descended from a Ragnosian Colony in the Alak system.”
Jack looked up to study the hologram. He blinked slowly, confused by what he had heard. “Our perp is Ragnosian?” he sputtered. “How is that possible? They're literally on the other side of the galaxy.”
“Not necessarily,” the young lab tech interjected. “Our perpetrator has Ragnosian ancestors, but for all we know, he was born on this side of the galaxy. Nevertheless, the sample stands out.”
“You are quite correct, Agent Hunter,” Ali added. Her tone and expression said that this was all some puzzle she couldn't wait to solve. How could a man from the other side of the galaxy have come here. “It should be impossible. We only know of the Ragnosians through contact via the SlipGate network.
“We know that they are human by genetic records they have reluctantly shared with us. They insisted that we do the same, of course. It would take our fastest ships eighteen months to reach the borders of their space, and from what we know, their technology is comparable to our own. A starship would run out of provisions long before it reached its destination with no guarantee of finding a suitable world to replenish its food and water supplies. This was the primary reason no one has ever made the attempt.”
Jack frowned and lowered his eyes to the floor. “But if they've found a new method of travel…” he said, his brow furrowing. “Regardless of how the man came here, the fact that he is here means we have a new threat.”
