her chest.
I’d seen many bodies in my life, but I couldn’t look at that one. I closed the file, feeling dizzy and sick. I’d seen what I needed to see.
I knew that wound. More than a few soldiers got surprised in a foxhole or tunnel or at the edge of the bush and had taken a hit like that. They zeroed the blade in on the closest major organ, and sometimes that was a kidney or the liver, but the target of choice was the heart.
If there had been any doubt before, there wasn’t any longer; the police records indicated no murder weapon was ever found, and that wasn’t surprising. The wound was made by a revivor’s bayonet. These people were all killed by a revivor.
A call came in through the JZI. It was Sean.
Nico.
Yeah, Sean?
How are you holding up?
I’m holding up.
I’ve pulled the preliminary information from the data spike you recovered at the arena. You ready for the results?
What did you find?
Looks like the kid planted a virus right in the middle of the high-security systems of everyone’s favorite contractor.
Heinlein Industries.
Yes.
For what reason?
The virus was looking for something. It monitored the network and logged every transfer, every port that was opened or closed, everything that went on. It bounced between systems, gathering samples for months, then compiled them all together.
Did it find what it was looking for?
Yes. That information was pulled out and set aside from the background noise. It paints a clear picture; someone from the outside is using Heinlein’s systems.
What do you mean, using Heinlein’s systems?
Someone is using a back door that was set up from the inside to access all of their computer systems. Whoever it is has been making use of their data regularly, and also stealing CPU cycles from just about every available system.
Boil that down for me.
Someone on the outside is basically using Heinlein’s systems, not just for horsepower but also for their simulators and archives of data.
Why?
Whoever’s doing it is very interested in brain function specifically. The most commonly referenced information all involves the bridge between the revivor components and the brain, as well as higher brain functions including memory, with an emphasis on—
Zhang’s Syndrome.
You got it.
How could Heinlein not know this?
The back door was set up by someone inside, someone trusted. It allows access under the radar, and since the usage is taking place in nanoseconds across thousands of systems, you’d have to be looking to see it.
I thought about the message, the one Cross left for me, and then repeated as he died in the Federal Building lobby. Samuel never left.
Did you get the information on Samuel Fawkes? I asked.
Yes. He’s dead, just like they said.
How did he die?
Mugging gone bad. He was stabbed and died in the hospital.
Who killed him?
Some junkie. She died some years back.
Was he reanimated?
Yes, but according to the records, he’s not on active duty.
Where is he?
I wasn’t able to track him down, but he’s in cold storage somewhere.
That I didn’t like. Tracking down a single unit might be difficult even if it was where it was supposed to be. Until it could be traced, it left a lot of possibilities open. Cross had said twice that Samuel never left; was he even dead? Revivors didn’t get funeral services, and no one except the technicians at the Heinlein laboratories ever laid eyes on them again after pickup. Was all this just a way of disappearing that wouldn’t be questioned?
Do you have any idea what the intruders were using Heinlein’s systems for specifically?
You’ve got me there, but the amount of number crunching all those CPU slices add up to is enormous. They’re doing something specific; some long- term analysis and modeling, all to do with highly classified information that only Heinlein would have. Like I said, it’s something to do with human brain function. I’ll know more when I’ve had more time to look at it.
Thanks, Sean.
No problem. Where are you now?
Following a lead. Do they have any more information about the bombings?
Nothing to trace them to anyone. It’s a madhouse back here. The governor and Mayor Ohtomo are organizing a secondary deployment of troops and using revivor fodder for the meat of riot control.
That should go over well. I’ll talk to you later.
Later. I’m really sorry about what happened.
Me too.
Heinlein, Zhang …something happened over there. Something Cross became aware of and tried to bring to light. Faye had thought our cases were connected. Maybe she’d been right.
You were about to tell me something …something important.
Looking at the spot where Faye had sat, I remembered her face as she’d sat across the table from me. Revivors could kill; there was no question about that. In a lot of ways, it was their primary function. There had been a handful of times where I had to fight for my life, and at least half of them had involved some kind of revivor. They were different from people or even animals in that regard, because unlike people, they felt no anger, hatred, or fear, or so I’d always been told.
Revivors didn’t conjure up their own motivations.
Or they never used to. Times changed. I flipped open my cell and made a call to an old friend from back in the grind. We hadn’t spoken since then, but I’d kept tabs on him. He had an in at Heinlein. “Nicky,” he answered, like no time had passed. “What’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
It was a debt I’d never intended to collect, but he didn’t hesitate before he answered.
“What do you need?”
“A body.”
“Any body in particular?”
“Yes,” I said. “Once Heinlein does a collection, where does the body go from there?”
“After being refitted, they’re put into stasis for long-term storage,” he said. “They’re packaged and stored right there until a specific order is filled; then they’re shipped out.”
“They just made a collection. I need it back.”
“You need to talk to Heinlein about that. Maybe they’ll set up—”
“They won’t.”
