The Freezer Page 2

  “Here’s where it happened.”

  There was Bojdl, midstride, with a tray of food in his right hand. I rose to my feet and marched to where he stood frozen in space. The computer immediately compensated for my action, and the image actually moved toward me to shorten my path, so I wouldn’t crash into the office bulkhead. Bojdl began walking and I studied everything intently. He had close-cropped hair and sunken cheekbones. He wore a black T-shirt and surgical pants. A moustache. Deep lines in his forehead. And his expression seemed...beaten. I had seen that look before.

  “Stop,” I ordered. Pointing at his bare arm, I said, “He’s injured.” Gauze and tape covered something there.

  “A burn in the lab a day earlier. I asked about it.”

  That drew a glare from me. “Investigating is my job here, not yours.” Despite the fact that Lawrence outranked me, as the homicide investigator on the scene I actually had authority over everything related to the crime and investigation, and he knew it.

  A frown. “It was just something I asked when I checked in at the clinic. Dr. Dinova was there and told me.”

  I considered that for a moment. “Continue the projection.”

  Bojdl began walking again before suddenly faltering. He reached his left hand out to steady himself on a nearby chair before losing his balance. The tray clattered to the deck, food spilling everywhere, and the metal chair tipped and skidded away. It had happened without warning, and the surprise on the faces of nearby onlookers was obvious. Bojdl followed his tray an instant later with a dull thump. His face pressed against rock and his lips moved silently as his chest heaved. People surrounding him bolted to their feet and began yelling for help. Most moved away, but some leapt forward and knelt over the man.

  “Stop,” Lawrence said. “Replay and focus on what he’s saying.”

  The images reversed quickly and once again we watched Bojdl take his last unsteady steps as he crashed downward. This time, as his lips began moving, the scene suddenly zoomed to his jaw and mouth. His hissing voice echoed around us. It was a surreal moment as Lawrence and I stood in that office while in the air floated a gigantic face grimacing in pain and sudden panic. The rest of the cabin was now dark.

  “He did it...killed me...finally got to me...” The last words were part of the death gasp, that final bit of air that escapes from a corpse’s lungs.

  The massive image of his mouth hanging limply open as saliva bubbled out remained before us.

  I broke the silence. “Send this to my reader immediately.”

  * * *

  The Administrative Division of Ceres had several doctors, one of whom had died only the day before. Captain Lawrence had mentioned the chief physician, Marina Dinova, while describing the death. She was first on my list to question.

  The clinic was located only a short walk from CCF HQ. My datachip reader had automatically downloaded a map of the facility, and it pointed the way as I marched through the connected caves and tunnels of the mining colony. This was the administrative zone, so there were no miners in sight, just military officers who ran the colony and the personnel who operated the mine and kept the shipments of iridium and iron moving toward the system’s major outposts and worlds.

  The steel hatch slid aside smoothly. I entered and studied my surroundings. Procedures tables along one wall. Consoles and desks along another. A small corridor which led to the freezers. They held corpses waiting for transport or cremation. The area was brightly lit and seemed sterile.

  It looked the same as every other military clinic. Timeless. Placeless.

  How often have I stood in these places, investigating murders? I thought idly.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turned to the voice. “Dr. Marina Dinova.”

  The woman stared for a moment. She clearly recognized me and then seemed to shake it off. “That’s me. What’s the problem?” She was all business now, as if I were a patient.

  “Lieutenant Kyle Tanner. Homicide investigator.”

  She hesitated for another heartbeat before, “Ah. Marek Bojdl.”

  “You suspect murder.”

  “No.”

  “Then how did you know why I wanted him?”

  “It’s been the only death recently.”

  “And yet you know the CCF thinks it was suspicious.”

  She gave a slight smile. She had short, cropped blond hair with gray highlights, probably natural. She was in her early fifties and had sharp features, but not unpleasant ones. She was pretty, in fact. “I can tell you are good at your job. Already you’re grilling me about this.”

  “Why don’t you think it was murder?”

  She folded her arms. “I’ve run the autopsy. I did it yesterday immediately following his death.”

  That much was good. She was following military regulations. “And?”

  “Aneurysm of the aorta which turned into a rupture. Blood pressure crashed. Hemorrhaged into his chest cavity before we could save him.”

  “Are you aware of—”

  “I know what he said. But still.”

  I watched her for a moment more. She seemed very sure of herself, as any good doctor should be. She was a lieutenant commander and had served the CCF for decades, helping expand the Confederacy and enforce the military’s authority over humanity. She seemed cold and hard and I had no doubt that there had been pain in her life, as with most other people.

  “How sure are you?”

  She shrugged. “The aorta is open. You can see for yourself.”

  “Send me the images.”

  “I will. It’s an aneurysm. I’m not sure why he was saying the other things.”

  “What about his medical history? Is the family prone to this sort of thing?”

  “No.”

  I pursed my lips. “How long had you known him? Was he your patient?”

  “Colleague. We also worked together at our previous post. We were good friends, Tanner. I’m shocked and saddened.” She frowned. “But his death was natural, as hard as it seems.”

  I gestured to my reader. “Send your autopsy report as well. I might return.”

  I could feel her watch my back as I spun on my heel and left the clinic.

  * * *

  There wasn’t a lot more to do with Bojdl’s case. I studied Dinova’s autopsy report in minute detail. It was very well written, crisp and clean and to the point, and the images of the aorta clearly showed a devastating death by natural causes. I looked into Bojdl’s past but there wasn’t much there either. His family consisted of an ex-wife and a grown daughter on Venus, estranged and not very helpful. Sad when they heard the news, but not overly so. A clinic coworker and a few other acquaintances had spoken of how distant he seemed, how he often appeared “sad and thoughtful.” His former assignment had been at some sort of research base on Europa and he had transferred to Ceres less than a year earlier.

  But still, his last words were haunting and clearly indicated the gender of the killer.

  “He did it...killed me...finally got to me...”

  Were they the words of a man plagued by wild fantasies, paranoia and delusions brought on by the stresses of working and living in such a dangerous, hostile environment? Burdened by the loneliness of a ruined marriage and a daughter who didn’t care for her father?

  Or were they the words spoken by someone who knew he was a target?

  * * *

  I found Shaheen in our cabin, napping, and it took all of five minutes for her to wake upon my arrival, gesture to me, and for the lovemaking to begin. The pain of decades of loneliness seemed to overcome me every time—the ache of dealing with murders and crime scenes and the gore and the blood. I was like an animal and Shaheen enjoyed every moment. At times she clawed my back, eager for my hunger. At others she was gentle, caressing and whisp
ering her desires and cravings to me, which I happily obliged. And then there were the times I stared into those blue eyes as our bodies moved together, sweaty and sticky and in perfect rhythm until the mutual climax overpowered us and we moaned in unison.

  Over the bunk the large port provided an incredible scene of space and stars and the distant sun, as well as approaching and departing jumpships. The cramped cabin was just a bed and a lavatory, but it was all we needed.

  It was all we’d ever need, I thought.

  * * *

  Shaheen left later that day. It was a painful thing to watch her board a jumpship with ten other passengers bound for such a distant place as Pluto, but at least I knew I wouldn’t be far behind. I would follow her when a case drew me in that direction, and I would soon join her at the colony there as she coordinated a massive engineering project involving the construction of a space elevator from the surface to orbit.

  Four hours passed uneventfully. I continued to look into Bojdl’s murder, but didn’t find anything else. Death by natural causes. Lawrence and I were ready to close the report. Final words brought on by sudden panic and hysteria, knowing that death had its cold grasp on him.

  It made me shake my head in wonder. Ninety percent of all cases my contacts sent me on were murders that were fairly easy to decipher. The clues were always there. Close friends, relatives, neighbors. Routine investigation could dig out the likely suspects, then a little more pressure could reveal the culprit. This one was just...odd.

  I decided to not close the file just yet. The fact that I had the full weight of the Confederate Combined Forces behind me was a tremendous weapon which I had no moral difficulties wielding. Civilians generally disliked us, but knew that to go against the CCF was to invite a death sentence. We’d taken over every aspect of society—media, education, commerce, even theater and literature—and those who objected generally ended up dead or missing. It wasn’t my place to judge whether that was right or wrong. I was part of the system after all. One of the authorities. I did my job and I did it well, and I operated in the society in which we all lived.

  Still, resentment toward the Council was one of the crimes which I was most...sympathetic to, I guess.

  Then came the call that changed my life forever.

  I awoke from a deep sleep at the insistent signal from the communit in my cabin. It was still Tuesday night, though it was slipping quickly into Wednesday. It had been a long day of travel and investigation, and I desperately needed the rest. I slapped the accept button and mumbled something to the screen.

  A shaky voice from the device: “Lieutenant Tanner?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, sir.”

  A long pause ensued, and a prickly sensation crawled up my spine. “What is it?” My words were deliberate, measured, and my eyes were now wide open.

  “Lieutenant Shaheen Ramachandra, sir. She’s dead. It was completely unexpected.”

  Another long pause as I struggled to grasp what I was hearing, and whether I was still asleep. “Repeat,” I finally managed. “And you better—”

  “She just dropped dead, here on the jumpship. We’re still en route to Pluto. I’m sorry to tell you...the officer in charge of the elevator Command Group asked me to call. There was no way to save her.”

  And then came the words that froze my blood.

  “An aneurysm killed her.”

  Chapter Two

  I felt raw and exposed, shattered to the core and broken to pieces. The last six months had been miraculous. After more than twenty years of prowling through life alone, of feeling that unending pain and hollowness in my gut, everything had finally seemed...normal. I had discovered the missing bits of my existence, which had finally coalesced into a fully complete human being. I had it all: someone to spend my time with, to care for, to care about me, a job that despite its pressures gave me satisfaction because I brought closure to families after capturing the killer who had changed their lives.

  Had it all...

  And now it was gone.

  Shaheen was gone.

  No—she was dead.

  Murdered.

  I clenched my teeth as I stared at the blank communit in my cabin. I had been too flippant about this case. Assumed it had been a natural death because that’s what others had said. But here were two aneurysms merely a day apart.

  Shaheen was gone.

  My eyes shut against the tears welling within. At that moment, at the weakest I’d been since childhood, I vowed that I would not shed a tear until her killer was dead.

  Executed, to be more precise.

  * * *

  It was roughly two hours until midnight, but now I knew that every second mattered. Someone had murdered Bojdl, and he had tried to tell us. We had witnessed the final passing, but the actual killing had occurred sometime earlier. I had to find out what exactly had terminated his life, and how someone had done it without his knowledge.

  I stalked to the clinic without paying attention to anything or anyone around me. Faceless people out and about, working the late shift or coming and going to the entertainment district, moved quickly from my path or were shoved to the side as I shouldered past them. There were a few muttered comments and even a threat that ended in a strangled gasp at the sight of my black uniform and the pistol on my thigh.

  “He’s CCF, don’t mess with him!” came a hiss at my back after I’d pushed one civilian moving slowly along the tunnel before me.

  I ignored it all and finally found myself at the hatch to the clinic. It slid open at my command, and inside, three people were there to meet me. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide. Ten minutes earlier I’d summoned them angrily from my cabin as I’d thrown my uniform on.

  Lieutenant Commander Marina Dinova, physician, in charge of the clinic and friend to Marek Bojdl. She had performed the autopsy and professed her belief in a death by natural causes.

  Simon Marius, another physician—though this one a civilian—who worked at the clinic. Friend to Marek Bojdl and the person who had told me Bojdl had seemed sad and distant.

  And lastly, Captain Malcolm Lawrence, my contact at Fort Iridium and commander of Security Division at the colony.

  They interpreted my expression instantly.

  “What is it?” Lawrence asked.

  “It’s late, Tanner,” Marius added. “Why—”

  “Shaheen’s dead,” I said without preliminaries.

  There was utter silence as they stared at me in momentary confusion.

  “Who?” Marius asked. He was in his thirties, black, good looking and extremely fit.

  “We were...together.” I had to speak through an unbearable tightness in my throat. “Something caused the aneurysm and rupture in Bojdl. We need to find it.”

  Dinova said, “I don’t—”

  I turned on her and snarled, “Shaheen died of an aneurysm! It was murder, and we need to discover how the killer did it.”

  Their eyes widened, and I continued. “She had been here, at Iridium, for only six hours maybe. Then she caught a jumpship to Pluto.”

  “Oh my God,” Lawrence muttered. He slumped into a chair. The ramifications were huge. “It was meant for you, Tanner.”

  I nodded. I’d been the target before. It was always a possibility in my line of work. I always had to be on my guard, but I had been complacent here.

  “Yes,” I ground out. I sent a pointed look at Dinova. “Where is the body?”

  I wondered for a moment if she had cremated—

  “In the freezer.”

  “Get it.”

  Not him. Not Bojdl. His corpse was now an it...and as in countless other investigations in the past, it would lead me to the killer.

  * * *

  Marius and Lawrence watched m
e uneasily as Dinova retrieved the corpse. My rage was obvious and they knew to back off. But finally the tension became too great and Lawrence cleared his throat. “What happened to Shaheen exactly, Lieutenant?”

  I hesitated as I recalled what the doctor on the jumpship had reported. “En route to Pluto. They were about two hours out from here.” I trailed off. “It was very sudden.” The image of Bojdl stumbling in the mess came to me. The shocked and stunned expressions of the people near him. Bojdl’s look of panic.

  “Is there any chance?” Marius interjected. “If there was a doctor with her on the scene...”

  I shook my head. “He said their ship was too small. Not the proper equipment. It was a catastrophic injury and she bled out.” My words were soft as I said them, as I pictured her only hours earlier as we had made love in the cabin. Her black hair, East Indian features, tender words...

  The future we had wanted to share.

  I shoved the thought aside savagely and cleared my throat. “According to the doctor, the evidence of aneurysm is clear. I ordered her put in their freezer, which he had already done.” The freezer didn’t freeze things. It was actually a stasis field that preserved everything in a state of suspended animation.

  I turned my attention to Marius. “You said earlier that Bojdl had seemed depressed.” In fact, even in the video I had wondered about his expression.

  Marius shrugged. “He had something on his mind. It was clearly bothering him. A lot of people here in the clinic thought so.”

  “How long had it been going on?”

  “I’ve known him for more than two years now.”

  I grunted at that. “Bojdl was on Europa before this.”