‘Mr Gabion.’
Luc started, and realized he was being addressed by Cheng.
‘By the looks of things,’ said Cheng, ‘your investigation has come to an end rather more swiftly than any of us might have hoped. I know it must have been difficult for you to be drawn into all of this at such short notice. You understand,’ he added, ‘that absolute discretion on your part continues to be both expected and necessary.’
‘I understand, Father,’ Luc replied. He felt unsure what to do next.
<Take him from here, Zelia,> Cheng scripted. <Then I want to talk with you.>
She glanced at Luc. ‘You should go back down,’ she muttered, her tone curt. ‘Thank you for your help.’
<And wait for me outside,> she added. <We aren’t finished here.>
‘Father.’ Luc nodded to Cheng, and left.
Luc waited on the street by the tower for nearly an hour. It started to rain – a thick, cold end-of-year drizzle that cascaded from the skies, painting the street with wet sheets that darkened the decaying shells of the apartment buildings around him. Police mechants came and went, still guarding Falla’s body while SecInt forensics teams carried out their work inside the tent hiding his body.
They eventually started letting the residents of the tower back in not long after forensics wrapped up their work. Shortly after, a SecInt ambulance that had arrived while Luc was inside the building took Falla’s remains away.
The police mechants followed the ambulance on its upwards trajectory, and soon the only company Luc had was a couple of civil-engineering mechants tasked with cleaning up whatever blood and tattered flesh hadn’t already been washed away. He retreated into a doorway to shelter from the worst of the rain still gusting down from on high, watching the skyline slowly brighten as morning drew nearer.
Zelia appeared from out of the building entrance and came towards him, her expression bleak.
‘You look cold,’ she said, stepping up beside him and into the comparative shelter of the doorway. Luc could see lines of fatigue around her eyes.
‘You look,’ he said, ‘like you’ve been given a hard time.’
Anger stiffened her face, and he wondered if he’d crossed a line. But then she nodded distractedly, as if acknowledging the point.
‘It doesn’t matter what Cheng thinks,’ she said in a monotone, staring toward the patch of pavement where Falla’s body had been. ‘He didn’t do it.’
‘Falla?’ Luc shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, either.’
She regarded him coolly. ‘Explain your reasoning.’
He shrugged. ‘I told you. I
‘Not even if his hand had been forced?’ de Almeida suggested. ‘Desperate people do desperate things, under the right circumstances.’
‘Falla had no family after the Battle of Sunderland, and no real friends either – certainly no one who could be used as leverage to force him to do something like that. He was barely any use as an informant, and not much use for anything else.’ Luc shook his head. ‘Try as I might, I can’t picture him as some kind of stealthy killer, finding his way through the White Palace, then flying halfway across Vanaheim in order to slaughter a Councillor in his own home. It just doesn’t compute.’
‘Not even with Black Lotus’s resources to help him?’
‘But that’s just it,’ said Luc. ‘Apart from that CogNet piece you produced back up there, I’ve not seen any evidence of him having access to any such resources. There’s no evidence he even had so much as a weapon in his possession.’ He let out a sigh. ‘The whole thing feels . . .’
‘Like a set-up,’ she finished for him. ‘Frankly, I’m inclined to agree. With that in mind, I want you to take another look at Falla’s CogNet piece.’
Luc stared at her. ‘You
She sighed irritably. ‘No. It’s been taken along with everything else as evidence.’
‘Then how can I—’
‘I copied its complete contents to my lattice – all the data and hacks Falla supposedly used to pass through the Hall of Gates without being detected.’
Luc looked at her, surprised. ‘That could get you into a lot of trouble if Cheng found out,’ he said quietly.
‘Then let’s make sure he doesn’t,’ she said, a hint of steel in her voice.
‘So why don’t
‘For the same reasons as before. Even though Cripps insists on telling Father Cheng there’s some flaw in Vanaheim’s security networks, I can assure you there is no such flaw.’
‘I remember you said that before, but it’s starting to look like—’
‘What you don’t know,’ she said, interrupting him, ‘is that every one of the Eighty-Five, Cripps included, has override privileges for those networks.’
Luc ducked his head back in surprise. ‘You mean . . .’
