The Furnace Page 7

  “Yeah. Call me Anna, everyone else does.” She was in her twenties, short and stout and not exactly attractive. More muscled than chubby, she had a pug nose and dark, serious eyes. Her hair was pulled back severely. Her skin was olive and betrayed her Chilean mestizo heritage.

  “You were friends with him?” I asked. I skipped all preliminaries; making small talk when the crew already knew why I was there would be tactless and embarrassing. Besides, as an officer, I wasn’t supposed to be friendly with lowly NOMs—those who were not officer material. They had their world and we had ours; the only reason I was currently in theirs was to investigate a crime.

  Anna looked around the room and lowered her voice a notch. “Great friends. Yeah, you could say that.”

  “How great?” It was obvious from her tone, but making assumptions was one of the worst things an investigator could do when questioning a witness. We needed it all laid out on the table, plain and simple.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just say very, if you get my meaning.”

  I filed that away as potentially important information. Spouses, lovers and immediate family members were the guilty party to a premeditated homicide eighty percent of the time. “He confided in you,” I said, not missing a beat.

  “Yeah. He was a special guy. I’m going to miss him.”

  “Did you two ever argue?”

  “The odd time. Nothing major. Just about petty stuff.”

  I studied her closely. She seemed sincere. People in relationships always argued; it came with the territory. She wasn’t trying to hide anything.

  “Did he have any enemies? Anyone who could have done this to him?”

  She looked puzzled. “No. A disagreement here or there. Nothing major.”

  “With who?”

  Her brow crinkled. “Once with Lieutenant Kayle, our esteemed Council rep.”

  That would be Brick Kayle, the Australian I had met the night before. “About?”

  “Money. Kayle owed some money to someone, and Jimmy lent him some. He never repaid the full amount.”

  Of course. Money. There was always something. “Who did Kayle owe?” I asked.

  “No idea.”

  “Why did Jimmy lend it to him?”

  “I dunno.” She scratched her head. “You know, it’s weird. To a certain extent Jimmy did it because he was just a nice guy. He was like that. But I think there was more to it than that.”

  “Such as?”

  She shrugged. “The fact that Kayle is an officer. Jimmy was just a private first class. I think he may have—” She suddenly looked apprehensive. “Say, is this, you know—”

  “Between us? Yes. Unless it has something to do with his death.” People often hesitated to speak freely unless they thought it was in confidence. I’d lied to her, of course, but I didn’t much care about it. It didn’t matter to me if someone’s feelings got hurt in the process of finding a killer.

  She bit her lip. “Good enough, I guess.”

  “You were saying?”

  “The fact that Kayle is an officer. I think Jimmy may have felt obligated, or even threatened.”

  I perked up at that. “You think Kayle threatened him?”

  “I don’t know for sure. But Jimmy seemed a little stressed after Kayle first approached him.”

  “When was that?”

  She pursed her lips. “I guess two months ago, give or take.”

  I made a note of that before I continued. “How are things here on SOLEX?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Boring. We orbit the sun endlessly. Every day is the same: maintain some machinery, move some cargo for the scientists, get some supplies from the storage cylinder. Same old shit.”

  “What about the people here?”

  “I guess they’re okay. I don’t really know some of them.”

  “The officers, right?”

  “Yeah. I chat with the scientists sometimes while I’m doing stuff for them. But they’re so involved in their work that getting to know them is difficult. But they’re better than the officers, who just like to give a bunch of orders. It’s the same everywhere, I’m sure.”

  “What about the crew?”

  “Well there’s only five of—” She stopped suddenly and looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m still doing that. There’s only four of us now, and we live in the same module, so yeah, I know them pretty well.”

  “Any problems between anyone?” Possible tensions and squabbles between coworkers were of critical importance for any murder case. There hadn’t been much in the official reports, but it didn’t mean nothing had happened. Manny or the first officer might not have reported such instances.

  “Not that I know of.” She pondered the question, and then, “Say, Jimmy did mention something once. It seemed really strange—I wasn’t sure if he was pulling my leg or not. He was a real prankster.”

  “A fight or something?”

  She paused. “Not really. At least, I don’t think so.” She thought for a moment. “He told me he was doing some maintenance on the life-support systems. Routine stuff. You know, there’s a lot of equipment keeping us alive. Our air and water are only part of it. There’s also the recycling system, which is extremely important. All our water passes through the recyclers, as does our solid waste. Galley garbage too. It’s all used again, mostly. Ninety percent of it, anyway. Then there’s the carbon dioxide. Levels are always building, and we have to keep them down.”

  “So what did he see?” I pressed.

  “He said that behind one of the carbon-dioxide scrubbers—which are actually pretty damn big—he saw two people doing something suspicious. It was dark, and he couldn’t make out their faces. Just from the way one of them kept looking around, Jimmy said it seemed odd. Like the guy was worried someone would see.”

  I’d heard this one a million times. “Something sexual?”

  “No, that’s the weird part. One of them was down, slumped against the scrubber. Jimmy said he looked unconscious. The other was standing over him, grabbing him around the arm, and just holding on tightly. Like he was trying to steady him, only the guy was already on the deck.” She shook her head. “Jimmy was standing in a dark corner, by the water filters. They couldn’t see him.”

  “How long did he watch?”

  “More than five minutes. Neither man moved much, just the guy who kept looking around.”

  I frowned. I definitely had not heard this one before. “Did Jimmy tell anyone else?”

  “He told an officer a few days later. I don’t think he got anywhere. He acted a little weird about it afterward.”

  “Who did he tell?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t say. I asked him what was wrong. I could tell something was bothering him. He said he had to make a decision about something, but refused to say what.”

  I paused and mulled the story over. Could it have anything to do with his death? “Can you show me where this happened?” I asked her.

  “Sure. I only know what Jimmy told me. But I’ll try my best.”

  * * *

  Anna led me to the upper level of the life-support cylinder—Module A. It was similar to my cabin in that the bulkheads curved together toward the center of the ceiling. They were probably double or triple hulled, with insulation, wiring, equipment and ducts running between the different hulls. The deck had numerous openings where pipes and ducts led downward to the lower two levels. I looked through one opening, but could see only darkness below. There was an odd echo as well; anything we said seemed to float back to our ears a second later, distorted and hollow. It was disconcerting.

  It was difficult to make anything out in the enclosure due to the low light level. The only illumination came from display panels on the equipment. I asked Anna why it was so dark.

  “Doesn’t m
ake sense to light a non-living area.”

  “What about someone who needs to do some work?”

  “Oh. We have portable lights we just plop down next to the system we’re working on.”

  “Did Jimmy have one with him the day he was here?”

  “Dunno.” She led me to a machine through which large ducts passed. It was clearly something for the station’s atmosphere. “This is one of our scrubbers. According to Jimmy’s story, the people would have been right here.”

  “And Jimmy?”

  She peered into a far corner. “The water filters are over there.”

  I marched to the indicated location. There were plenty of shadows to lose oneself in. I crouched in the corner. “Can you see me?”

  “No,” Anna said. “Not at all.”

  I got back to my feet and approached her. “Thanks for showing me this. If I have any more questions, I’ll find you.”

  “Okay.” She started to leave, hesitated, then turned back to me. “Say, remember what you said? This wouldn’t go anywhere unless—”

  “Unless it had to do with Jimmy’s death. I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Good.” She spun on a heel and left the compartment quickly.

  I glanced around the dark surroundings. Just a few hours of questioning and I finally had some suspects on my list: the person Jimmy had seen subduing the prone man in the life-support module, the officer Jimmy had told about the strange incident, and Brick Kayle, who had owed Jimmy money. Not bad for a morning’s work.

  Chapter Seven

  I ate lunch in the common mess. All the officers were present, as well as most of the crew. The scientists were absent. They were apparently having a working lunch. Every day, according to Brick, was a working lunch for the scientists.

  Avery Rickets, the first officer, introduced me to the crew. He led me to the table where they sat scowling at their plates. They didn’t look up as we approached. “This is Godfreid Grossman, Larry Balch and Bram O’Donnelly,” he said. “These three plus Anna are the ones who really keep the station running.”

  Grossman was stocky, bordering on fat, with big arms and a long handlebar mustache. Balch was his opposite, tall and skinny with thin biceps and a long neck. Veins protruded up and down his arms; on his left arm they blended in with a tattoo that stretched its entire length. Bram O’Donnelly was an older man, stout, with a full red beard to match his hair. He chewed his food slowly as he watched me.

  “It’s too bad Anna’s not here,” Rickets continued. “I could have introduced you.”

  “I met her earlier,” I answered. “I also spoke with one of the scientists, Reggie Hamatsui.”

  “Great. Reggie is a nice guy. Did you interview him?”

  I snorted. “Yes, but he was more interested in talking about the sun.”

  “Typical. They’re all so preoccupied with it.”

  “I’m getting a little sick of that,” Bram O’Donnelly said. “Whenever I’m in Module F, all I hear is those four talking about solar electromagnetic field this, fusion temperature that, missing mass this, and all sorts of other bullshit.”

  “How’d you end up at SOLEX?” I asked.

  “I didn’t request it, you can bet on that.”

  “What was your previous post?”

  “Venus. Wasn’t great, too much damn work and not enough free time, but it was a damn sight better than this.”

  Captain Fredericks grinned. “Come on, Bram. It’s not that bad.” To me: “Bram is perhaps the most negative crewman I’ve got.”

  The pair began to argue in earnest. Bram criticized everything from the work schedule to the recent death of Jimmy Chin. Manny, on the other hand, had a smile on his face and chuckled with every critique. I’d seen captains in the CCF who, like my contact, Bryce Manning, were fanatical about military formality and protocol. Manny obviously wasn’t one of them. In fact, here he was allowing one of his crew to openly complain about everything related to SOLEX, including its officers.

  Rickets noted my expression and leaned toward me. “Don’t worry, they do this every day. They’re actually good friends—knew each other back before either of them was in the CCF. I think Manny had Bram transferred here.”

  Leaving the two to their disagreement, I turned to Larry Balch and Godfreid Grossman, who were now engaged in an animated discussion at the end of the table. Every now and then one of them glanced in my direction. It was obvious that I was the topic of conversation.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  Balch grew immediately silent and stared at his food. Grossman said, “Jimmy was a friend. That’s all. We were wondering how your investigation is going.”

  “Fine,” I said in a noncommittal tone. “Just started. Were either of you two out with him during the EVA?”

  I noticed their eyes flick to the captain and back to me. “No,” they both said.

  Their expressions were too rigid. They were hiding something.

  “Who was?”

  They looked at each other, got to their feet and left the mess hall without another word.

  * * *

  Manny remained in his chair as the others filed out. Bel Bertram and Shaheen Ramachandra cast a curious glance at us as they departed. They were the last to leave.

  “I have a few questions for you, Manny.”

  His expression was grim. “I expected you would.”

  “Who was on the EVA with Jimmy?” I said without preamble.

  He exhaled and looked remorseful. “I suppose it had to come out in the end. I knew it would, especially after what happened to the corpse. But let me say this—my officers and crew were under orders not to disclose what happened. It’s my fault, not theirs.”

  So it was true, after all. “Why was Jimmy outside by himself? It’s—”

  “Against regulations. I know.”

  “A severe misjudgment on your part.”

  His face looked haggard and drawn. “You probably can’t understand—you’ve never lived in a place like this for as long as we have. It gets to you—the loneliness, the isolation. The constant danger, being so close to Sol. It’s hard to maintain protocol.”

  “I noticed Bram earlier. Hardly any military formality there.”

  “We’re friends. It’s not like that with everyone.”

  I bristled at that. I knew it was absolutely necessary to maintain discipline in severe conditions and remote locations. Once military people started to act like civilians, the more basic emotions churned to the surface and caused all sorts of trouble.

  “Go on,” I pressed.

  “SOLEX is isolated from the Confederacy. No one comes and goes. Every day is as mundane as the one before it.” He hesitated. “I know it sounds like I’m making excuses.”

  “You could say that.” In fact, boredom could be extremely useful. Life in the military generally consisted of long stretches of routine training punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Survival depended on one’s ability to deal with a crisis, and your mental state—hardened by training and even learning to deal with boredom—determined who lived and who died. I simply couldn’t believe that Manny didn’t understand that. He was a captain in the CCF. He wouldn’t have ascended to the rank without accepting and in fact appreciating it.

  “It really is difficult out here,” he was saying. “Regs falter a bit. We get a little more informal. One day they’re not saluting, and you don’t care because you understand the stress everyone’s under. Then the crew’s efficiency scores drop, but you don’t do anything because they’re doing the best they can in a tough situation. They didn’t ask to be here. Someone assigned them to this post. Then, before you know it, you’re bending regulations beyond what’s normal or acceptable. And the funny thing is, you don’t even really notice.”

 
“Until someone dies.”

  He grimaced. “Yes. Jimmy must have been careless outside. He slipped up.” The guilt was clear in his features. He had a spotless record, and it was a shame that his biggest mistake had ended in a fatality. There was nothing I could do to help him once I filed my report. His career would be over.

  He eyed me. “I know. I’m through. There’s no getting around it.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  His smile was sad. “Just find out who cut Jimmy’s head and hands off and get them out of here.”

  I knew he wasn’t angry with me. He was just under tremendous pressure. I sympathized with the man, I really did. I wish I could have overlooked what he had done, but doing so would mean disobeying regs—the very mistake Manny had made. I just couldn’t do it.

  “Can you answer a few more questions?” I asked.

  “Shoot.” He got up to grab another coffee and returned with a steaming mug.

  “Did Jimmy ever make any odd reports to you?” According to Anna, he had told an officer about the assault in life support. I didn’t yet know which one.

  He pursed his lips. “Nothing comes to mind. You mean with the station?”

  “No, with the personnel.”

  “No.”

  “What if he told another officer? Would you know about it?”

  “I guess it depends how weird it was.”

  I paged through my notes, dwelling for a moment on Dr. Malichauk’s statement. Manny sipped coffee. Finally I asked, “Why didn’t you order the autopsy immediately?”

  He sighed. “I figured Malichauk would do it.”

  “Did you punish him for not doing it right away?”

  His expression turned gloomy. “No.”

  I shook my head. Yet another regulation disregarded. It was a clear indication of lack of formality resulting in escalating problems. For me in particular, it had meant the loss of the corpse and a potential wealth of physical evidence.

  “What was he doing that was so important?”

  “I asked him. He never gave a concrete answer.”

  Absurd. If that had happened anywhere else in the Confederacy, the officer in question would have been in the brig for weeks.