the fence, you on the other.’
He frowned. ‘Reto fell for Black Lotus’s bullshit. I didn’t.’
‘What kind of bullshit?’
‘Is there a reason for this line of questioning?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I want to know the answer.’
‘Black Lotus claimed they weren’t responsible for the assault on Sunderland that killed a huge number of Benareans, but it’s demonstrably not true. As far as Black Lotus were concerned, the Benareans who died as a direct result of their actions were nothing more than collateral damage.’
‘That didn’t stop a lot of other Benareans joining their ranks afterwards,’ said Zelia.
‘Then I guess you’d have to ask them for their reasoning,’ he replied levelly.
De Almeida again regarded him with a look of amusement that was already becoming as familiar as it was deeply irritating.
A second data-ghost appeared next to de Almeida’s, and spoke to her without acknowledging Luc’s presence before vanishing once more.
‘Two hundred and thirty-first floor,’ said Zelia, turning back to face him. ‘That’s Falla’s apartment. The elevator’s out of action past the two-hundredth floor, I’m afraid. You’ll have to walk the rest of the way.’
‘Or,’ he said, ‘I could just ghost there.’
She shook her head. ‘No. Father Cheng might want you to take a look at physical evidence, and you can’t do that if you’re only present as a projection. If you start now, I’ll see you there in half an hour.’
By the time Luc had ascended in a working car to the two-hundredth floor and climbed up the last thirty-one flights, his skin was slick with sweat and he was breathing hard. It took him longer than half an hour since he also had to negotiate his way past a series of security mechants placed in the stairwells. A final mechant, decorated in the distinctive livery of the Temur Council, led him into a small, derelict-looking apartment.
De Almeida was there in the flesh, although Father Cheng and Bailey Cripps themselves were only present as data-ghosts. Cheng turned to regard him as he entered, and for a moment Luc caught his look of cold contempt, quickly replaced by one of jovial avuncularity.
‘Mr Gabion,’ said Cheng, his voice booming in the confines of the tiny living-room. ‘It appears we’ve found our killer and saved you a great deal of bother.’
‘Take a look at this,’ said de Almeida, gesturing to the mechant that had led him inside.
The mechant projected an image of a crude-looking device, blown up until it was nearly a metre across. Luc recognized it as a home-brew CogNet earpiece, a customized unit typically used for circumventing low-grade security networks – part of a thief’s arsenal, in other words. Black Lotus often made use of operatives skilled at constructing such devices.
Luc glanced between de Almeida and Cheng. ‘All this tells us is that Falla probably made his living as a thief,’ he said.
<Zelia,> he heard Cheng script. <You really shouldn’t have brought him here.>
<I have your permission to include him in the investigation, Father Cheng. You agreed, remember?> she replied, her expression defiant.
<Yes, but it appears our investigation has come to a pleasingly rapid end. That makes his presence no longer necessary.>
Luc kept his gaze fixed on the projected image, terrified that Cheng and Cripps might realize he could hear their every word.
‘Mr Gabion,’ said de Almeida, nodding at the projection, ‘Father Cheng believes Falla must have used this device to pass through the Hall of Gates.’
‘Case closed, really,’ said Cripps. ‘That thing’s crammed with decrypted security data for getting past the White Palace’s defences. There’s even data proving he was present on Vanaheim at the time of Vasili’s murder.’
Luc glanced at de Almeida. Her jaw was clenched, like she was on the verge of going ballistic.
‘If you have the actual device here, can I take a closer look?’ asked Luc, gesturing to the projection.
Cripps started to say something. ‘I don’t—’
‘Of course,’ de Almeida snapped before he could finish. ‘Here.’ She reached out a hand to the mechant providing the projection, and it dropped the original device into her open palm. It was, as Luc had expected, quite tiny, smaller even than a fingernail.
She passed it to Luc, who studied it closely, ignoring the glare on Cripps’ face. When he tried to access it through his own CogNet link, he found to his surprise that it was quite easy. The crude device’s temporal archives proved to be not only accessible, but also dated back months. It didn’t take him more than a minute to locate data inside the tiny machine that apparently proved the device and its owner had indeed passed through the Hall of Gates.
He shot a furtive glance at de Almeida, and saw her looking back, her jaw clenched beneath angry eyes.
<The data on that thing’s been faked,> she sent.
It took Luc a moment to understand she was addressing him directly. He continued to study the device in his palm without replying.
