The Furnace Page 9

  “Katrina?”

  “Katrina Kyriakis, one of the scientists. She’s an electromagnetic-field physicist. Brick is the scientist liaison, as well as our political officer, so it’s natural that he would have been with her.”

  “What about the other twelve people?”

  “No one has an alibi, myself included. We were all doing our own work.”

  I frowned. “Seems natural enough for the scientists, but no one saw anyone else?”

  “It’s a pretty big station for fourteen people, Kyle.”

  I had noticed that SOLEX seemed large for the number of people living there. I raised an eyebrow.

  “This is only temporary,” she said. “After we’re done with the trial period, if everything checks out, we’ll get a larger crew to help run and monitor the equipment. Set up more microwave beams to other locations. More scientists too, probably. We could hold fifty people here without much trouble. It’s no wonder no one saw anything.”

  I pondered that information.

  She was still watching with those blue eyes. They were mostly light, with darker flecks. Juxtaposed over her other features, they were almost hypnotic.

  “You noticed the eyes,” she said.

  “Hard not to,” I admitted, a little embarrassed. “How’d you get them?”

  “I’m from Mumbai. My parents thought they were both full-blooded Indian. When I was born with these eyes, it caused a lot of confusion in the family.” She laughed. “Actually, that’s putting it mildly. Everyone went apeshit. You see, the color blue comes from a recessive gene. It means both parents have it in their family. And being East Indian...”

  “Not many have blue eyes.”

  “No. But the British once occupied my country. So—”

  “You have British blood.”

  “Yes, on both sides of my family. At some point in the past, centuries ago now, both my parents’ families must have had a mixed child. No one in either family knew about it. When I was born, however, it became pretty obvious.”

  “Were they ashamed?”

  She looked startled. “Oh, no. Not at all. I just represented a piece of the past that no one knew about.”

  “And the English accent?”

  She finished entering the report with a quick jab at a key and moved her chair closer to mine. Her figure was hard to hide. She was probably a woman who got whatever she wanted in life just from her good looks. Not to say that she wasn’t smart too; her engineering expertise was clearly unparalleled. She had invented the heat shield that protected us and had upgraded the magnetic shield that funneled the sun’s high-energy particles away. Dr. Malichauk had said that Shaheen would win the Nobel Prize. He was probably right.

  She said, “My eyes made a big impact on everyone around me while I was growing up. Even me. When I was ready to go to university, I wanted to get away from India, to explore more of Earth. To travel. I chose Oxford University in England. In a way, I guess you could say that I followed my eyes.”

  I grunted. “Good story. Interesting history.”

  That took her aback. “Look who’s talking! You get to travel the entire system, catch killers and get justice for families who have suffered terrible loss. You’re the guy who caught the Torcher. Everyone knows that.”

  I shifted in my chair. “I don’t really like talking about that. I thought you understood.”

  A surge of regret passed over her features. “Sorry. I do.”

  “You understand that I don’t want to talk about it. Not the reason why.”

  “Of course I do. You enjoy working alone. You don’t want to get close to too many people. Maybe it was something that happened when you were younger. Who knows? But you are dedicated to your work. You want to catch people who have broken the law and put things right. Help people who have been wronged. You don’t appreciate fame because it cheapens what you do, and you understand that your notoriety is a result of people’s suffering.” She paused for a beat and pointed at my face. “Close your mouth before a bug flies in.”

  “How’d you figure all that?”

  She shrugged. “It’s natural. You’re a good person. A moral person. No one who’s like that could appreciate fame brought on by the death of others.”

  I’d known she was brilliant, but obviously her knowledge included not just science and engineering, but psychology as well. “By the way, thanks for helping me during dinner my first night here.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I could see your discomfort.” There was a long pause as we studied each other. I had never met anyone quite like her.

  I wondered if she felt the same about me.

  * * *

  I found Manny in the station’s control center, monitoring systems. He looked up from a reader as I entered.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Much.”

  “I still can’t believe what happened, Tanner. I was thinking of assigning you someone, say Brick or Rickets, to stay with you at all times. Until this is cleared up.”

  I chewed it over before throwing the idea out. I didn’t want to find myself alone with the person responsible for the attack. “No, I’ll be fine. My guard wasn’t up, that’s all. I do need something, however.”

  “Anything.”

  “A new pistol.” I scowled. “Mine seems to be missing.”

  * * *

  I decided to review the officers’ records in more detail. I’d given them a cursory glance on the jumpship earlier, but was beginning to realize that this case might be somewhat more difficult than most. I had a hunch that there was something in those files, somewhere, that might shed some light on things.

  Manfred Fredericks, Captain, CCF, had had an impeccable history since his first day in the service. He had served on a variety of CCF vessels, including a colony ship in the outer reaches and a number of posts throughout the home system. There was nothing in the file to indicate hostility or repressed anger toward anyone on the station. He was calm, cool and collected by every account—a perfect officer in the CCF.

  Except for the violation of regulations that had gotten Jimmy killed, that is.

  First Officer Avery Rickets had enrolled as a young cadet in the Canadian western provinces. He had been eight years old at the time. Serving in the cadets first, he’d moved into the CCF Youth before he finally joined the CCF at age eighteen. He was a driven officer. He sought challenges and tough assignments. He had distinguished himself as a junior-grade lieutenant at the age of twenty when all of the officers on the bridge of his ship—the Raptor—had died during a decompression emergency. Rickets had pulled on a half helmet amid the chaos and taken control while exposed to space in only his CCF uniform. The word dedication came to mind when I read his file. Astounding.

  Lieutenant Belinda Bertram had a fine record. There was no sign of ambition or drive—she requested quiet postings with little challenge—but otherwise she was a good officer. She’d never make captain, but she was competent. There had been no problems in her past.

  Dr. Lars Malichauk had an interesting history. His early records reminded me of Avery Rickets’s. He’d been an outstanding biology student who moved into medicine, published in many journals—too many to count, actually—and even worked on the team that developed the vaccine to Crayle’s disease. Following that triumph, he had worked as—my eyes widened momentarily as I read this—personal physician to the Council member from Venus for a period of five years. Following that, he’d moved around the system and worked at smaller, quieter and out-of-the-way outposts as chief physician. He had finally ended up in the middle of this mess on SOLEX.

  I already knew about Lieutenant Shaheen Ramachandra, and what I didn’t know I could have guessed. She had been a brilliant schoolgirl, university student and engineer. The CCF had recruited her with promises of working on the b
iggest and most important engineering challenges in the galaxy. She was indeed in consideration for the Nobel Prize in engineering for the creation of the station’s heat shield. Any thought of her being responsible for a violent crime seemed outrageous.

  Lieutenant Brick Kayle had a spottier record. There were a few notes about his being late reporting to duty, and even one report of failure to show for an entire shift. Otherwise, he was competent and seemed to want to impress his superiors, despite his minor flaws as an officer. There was nothing else of note in his file.

  Frustrated, I put the reader aside. The officers seemed exceptional in most regards. Whatever was going on at SOLEX was elusive, like a thread too thin to grasp.

  I just had to keep looking. Eventually I would find something.

  * * *

  I had spoken to everyone but three of the scientists; I decided it was finally time to talk to them. I marched to Module F and soon stood in the cluttered corridor where earlier I had met Reggie Hamatsui, the atmospheric-dynamics specialist. There were three other hatches there. I approached the nearest and, after a quick rap on the steel, entered the lab.

  An elderly black woman jerked her head up from a computer screen. Her round face looked hard.

  “Excuse me, I’m Kyle Tanner.”

  Her features relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had forgotten. You’re here regarding Jimmy Chin’s death.”

  “His murder.”

  She looked surprised. “Really? Have you determined that now?”

  “Seems pretty clear.”

  “And now you’re here to question me?”

  “Just to find out if you know something that can help.” I smiled to put her at ease. “It’s only routine. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, I don’t really have a lot of time.”

  “Won’t take but a minute.”

  She sighed. “Very well. But do you mind if I keep working while you ask your questions?”

  Damn. Another overly preoccupied scientist. Get her talking about the sun and she’d probably babble for hours.

  “No, I guess not,” I said.

  “Shoot.” She turned back to her computer.

  “You’re Sally Johnson.”

  “Right. Solar physicist.”

  “How well did you know Jimmy?”

  “Not well at all. I don’t really know anyone on this station but the other scientists and Lieutenant Kayle. He’s the scientist liaison. He gets us what we need to research the sun and tries to keep the CCF off our backs.”

  I frowned, wondering what she meant by that. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, it’s a military project, you know. Power generation and so forth. They’re only allowing us to research here because our associated universities put up some cash. They want to know what we’re doing at all times.”

  That seemed normal, I thought. After all, it was their station. “Your universities are helping fund SOLEX?”

  “Well, a minor amount of money. I guess Jase Lassiter at Command Group figured we’d offset the cost a bit. Anyway, as a result they’re constantly interfering.”

  “Do they think you could make an important discovery or something?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t really know what we could find that would be of any interest to them. We’re mostly interested in the huge temperature increase in the corona. Temperature shoots up from six thousand to two million Kelvin in only two hundred kilometers! It’s an—”

  “Did you ever hear anyone talking badly about Jimmy?” I asked quickly. The attack was still fresh in my mind; I needed to keep the investigation moving forward, not spend an eternity here listening to details about the sun.

  Her expression showed irritation at being interrupted, but she answered anyway. “Never. Everyone liked him. He was a practical joker. Made people laugh.”

  “Ever see any hostility on the station?”

  “No. Just us scientists having the usual squabbles. Katrina, for instance, is always arguing with Reggie. He often monopolizes the instruments and takes scheduled time away from the rest of us.”

  I asked her where she had been during the assault in my cabin.

  “Doing research,” she said. “Here. Same as always.”

  “Ever see anything...weird? One person maybe accosting another?”

  She looked up from her work. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. Someone grabbing another person. Maybe forcefully.”

  She thought for a long moment. “No. I’ve never seen anything like that here.”

  * * *

  The next lab belonged to Katrina Kyriakis. She had been with Brick during the attack in my quarters. She was in her forties, with short brown hair, a thin neck, dark eyes, and aquiline features. She was beautiful, in fact.

  “Hello, Inspector Tanner,” she said as I entered. Her eyes were penetrating; they seemed to size me up and instantly evaluate my characteristics and manner. She had a perceptive and intelligent aura about her, as if she knew more about me than even I did. She was a far cry from Reggie. I felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

  I grunted. “Finally, a scientist who knows who I am.”

  “Don’t feel slighted. Captain Fredericks told us all you were coming, but my colleagues were probably too engrossed in their work to remember.”

  “You got it.”

  “Well, I’ll answer any questions you have. Jimmy was a great guy. I miss him.”

  The lab was the same as the others. Similar equipment, displays and furniture. I searched for a place to sit before settling on a short bench attached to some sort of scanner. She continued to watch as I squeezed between some books and pulled out my datachip reader.

  Everyone so far had stated how much they liked Jimmy. His death was unfortunate and now even more mysterious. He didn’t seem to have any real enemies—except perhaps Brick Kayle. “Did you know him well?”

  “No. But sometimes I ate in the common mess at lunch. I saw him fooling around with the others. Putting vinegar in coffee, mousetraps in cutlery trays. That sort of thing. It was fun.”

  “Even the officers enjoyed it?”

  “Yes.”

  I asked her the same questions I’d asked Sally Johnson. Had she ever seen anything weird on SOLEX? One person accosting another and so on. She stared at me, puzzled.

  “You mean an assault?”

  “In a way.”

  She pursed her lips. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Where were you yesterday between 1400 hours and 1700 hours?”

  “Chatting with Lieutenant Kayle. Have you met him? He’s our liaison. Tries to keep the CCF off our backs.”

  I frowned. She was the second person who’d said that now in an hour. “How does the CCF bother you?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “They’re constantly demanding reports on our work. But that’s not so bad. The strange part is that they want proof! They want to see our computer logs, our sensor logs, our rough research work. It’s been getting worse lately.”

  “Why is that odd? They’re funding this project.”

  She looked pained. “It’s just damn weird, and a pain in the ass to boot. I’ve been on many research projects, on a number of different stations. No one’s ever asked for so much access to my work. All the other scientists will say the same thing if you ask them.”

  “You’ve been on other military stations? Or just ones funded by them?”

  “Both. I’m not really sure why they’re so interested in Sol.” She shrugged. “It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s just an irritant.”

  I turned my reader off. “That’s it for the questions today. If I have anything else...”

  “Feel free to come by. I welcome the interruption, trust me.” She grinne
d as I stepped away from her and left the lab.

  Hmm. A relatively normal person for a change. She hadn’t even talked about the sun.

  * * *

  The last scientist—and the only person on SOLEX I hadn’t yet met—was Ling Lee, the sunspot physicist. She was Chinese and very pretty. I’d heard Reggie call her Lingly, so I assumed that was the name she went by. She wore the requisite white lab coat, was thin—but not necessarily fit—and had black-framed glasses. She had the same attitude as Sally Johnson: I’m busy, don’t bother me.

  After the introductions were over, she said, “How long will this take?” I almost took a step back from the bluntness of her statement. Clearly she wasn’t interested in politeness.

  “Just a few minutes.” I smiled to ease her tension. “Can I come in?”

  She stepped aside reluctantly. Her lab was just as cluttered as Reggie’s. Pasted to the bulkheads were posters and diagrams of the sun’s structure. There was one whole section devoted to sunspots. I spent a few minutes studying it as Lingly straightened up her work area and found a place for me to sit.

  My eyes flicked over the diagrams and I quickly absorbed the information.

  She looked up and noticed what I was doing. “Fascinating, isn’t it?” She sounded contrite, as if realizing how rude she had been only minutes earlier.

  “Sure.”

  “It’s my area. I’ve now spent more than half my life studying sunspots.”

  “Reggie suggested you were thinking of landing a probe on one.”

  She laughed abruptly. “He’s a daydreamer. The surface isn’t solid.”

  “But the temperature isn’t too bad. You could design a heat shield for it, couldn’t you?”

  “Sure, for short periods of time. But don’t forget that the corona’s temperature is two million Kelvin, and the ship would have to pass through that. And what would it land on?” She shook her head. “No, there’d be no point. We’re close enough here that I can do all the research necessary. You don’t have to actually be on the thing to study magnetic fields.”

  “I see.” I sat on the stool she had cleared for me. A pile of circuit boards, datachips and papers littered the deck around its legs. I went through the requisite questions and got all the same answers. Nothing out of the ordinary, no assaults, Jimmy was a nice guy, et cetera.