“I can’t say. I haven’t completed my interviews.”
“Do you intend to question Dravidian?”
“I’ll question anyone I think might have an angle on the attack.”
“You can’t let this atrocity go unpunished, Prefect. Something unspeakable happened to Ruskin-Sartorious. Someone must pay for that.”
“I’m pretty sure someone will,” Dreyfus said. When he had returned the simulation to storage—very much against its wishes—Dreyfus took a minute to note his own thoughts into his compad. Perhaps his clarifying statement concerning his views on beta-levels hadn’t helped matters, but he’d sensed an undeniable hostility from the Ruskin-Sartorious patriarch. It would be a mistake to read too much into that, though. No one liked Panoply very much, and the resurrected dead were no exception.
He invoked the second valid recoverable, opting to take a slightly less harsh tack.
“Hello, Vernon,” Dreyfus said, addressing the younger-looking man who’d just appeared. He had a pleasant, trustworthy face and a headful of tight blond curls.
“Welcome to Panoply. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but in case my colleague didn’t make it clear, your primary is dead.”
“I gathered,” Vernon Tregent said.
“I still want to know about Delphine. Your colleague wouldn’t tell me anything. Did she make it out? Did you get anything from her beta?”
“We’ll get to that. I just need to clarify something first. I don’t mean this to sound hurtful, but there are people who believe in the sanctity of beta-levels, and people who don’t, and I’m afraid I’m one of the latter.”
“That’s fine,” Vernon said, with an easy shrug.
“I don’t believe in the sanctity of beta-levels either.” Dreyfus blinked a double-take.
“How can you not believe? You are one.”
“But my responses are governed by Vernon’s beliefs, as demonstrated on countless occasions. Vernon didn’t think beta-levels were anything more than clever simulacra. He was very vocal in that opinion.
Hence, I share that view.”
“Good…” Dreyfus said, less sure of himself.
“That’ll make life a lot easier.” Then some impulse caused him to volunteer more information than he’d normally have considered wise.
“We’ve recovered Delphine. I still have to interview her, but my colleague thinks there’ll be enough there to serve as a useful witness.”
Vernon closed his eyes. He raised his chin, as if giving thanks to the blank white infinity that served as a ceiling.
“I’m glad. If anyone deserved to get out, it was Delphine. Now tell me what happened.”
“Does the name Dravidian mean anything to you?”
“If you mean the Ultra captain… then yes, it means a lot. What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.” It was the same story as Anthony Theobald, Dreyfus thought. No memory of the final events because the recording systems hadn’t had time to update the beta-level models in the processor cores.
“Your habitat was destroyed,” he said.
“The captain—we’ll assume Dravidian gave the order—appears to have decided to slash it open with his engine.”
“Dravidian wouldn’t have…”
But Vernon trailed off, as if the very repugnance of the crime was only now hitting home.
“I can’t believe he’d have done something so vicious, so out-of-proportion. There’s no doubt that this happened?”
“I’ve crawled over the ruin myself. Forensic evidence is watertight. And one of my other witnesses says that Dravidian didn’t like it when the deal went sour.” Vernon pushed his fingertips against his temples, screwing up his eyes.
“I remember that we were close to settling things. Then the message came through… Delphine received it, I remember.” “Saying not to trust Dravidian?”
“Saying we could get a better offer elsewhere. Anthony Theobald was angry, of course: he wanted those funds so badly he was prepared to sell Delphine’s art for its scrap value.” Vernon clenched his fist in emphasis.
“But it was her life’s work! She’d put her soul into it. I couldn’t stand by and see it sold off for less than a fair price.”
“So you and Delphine decided to break off negotiations.”
“We wished Dravidian no hard feelings.”
“But he didn’t take it well.”
“He seemed put out, exasperated, as if he genuinely thought he was offering an honest price for Delphine’s art. He said he’d have to think twice about ever doing business with us again. He said that to withdraw from negotiations so late in a discussion was most irregular.” Vernon shook his head.
“But to go from that to… destroying Delphine’s home… nothing he said indicated that he was that angry. I mean, there’s a difference between angry and murderous. Isn’t there?”
“Less than you’d think.”
“Do you think he did it, Prefect? Do you think Dravidian was capable of this?”
“Let’s get back to Delphine. Was she an artist of some kind?”
“Some of us thought so.”
“What kind of work?”
“Sculpture, mostly. Her work was brilliant. She was right to want the best price for it.” Dreyfus thought back to the face he’d seen carved into the rock drifting through the ruins of Ruskin-Sartorious. He couldn’t deny the power of the piece, but there’d been nothing useful about it in the forensics summary.
“Was she working on anything at the time of the attack?”
“Well, not literally, but she’d been busy with a big piece for several months. Part of her Lascaille series.” The young man shrugged.
“It was just a phase she was going through.”
The word ’Lascaille’ meant something to Dreyfus, just as he was sure he’d recognised the face in the rock, but neither shed any immediate light on the other. It was only a work of art, but anything that offered a window into Delphine’s head might be useful in determining her role in events. He made a mental note to look into the matter later.
“How did you come to know her?” he asked.
“Were you married?”
“We were supposed to be married. Ruskin-Sartorious was in financial difficulties and Anthony Theobald thought he could solve the Bubble’s problems by marrying his daughter off to the son of another habitat. He already had ties to Macro Hektor Industrial: we’d installed his anti-collision defences and he was in debt to us. I was the scion of one of the most powerful family lines within Industrial. Negotiations took place behind our backs. Delphine and I didn’t like that very much.” He smiled sadly.
“But that didn’t stop us from falling in love for real.”
“So Anthony Theobald got what he wanted?”
“Not exactly. My family had expectations that I’d become another partner in the defence-design business. Unfortunately, I had other plans. I decided to leave Industrial, severing ties to both my family and the business, and join Delphine in the Bubble. I’d become inspired by her art, convinced that I might have something of the same genius lying untapped within myself. It took me about three months to realise that I had no undeveloped talent whatsoever.”
“Takes some people a lifetime.”
“But I did realise that I could help Delphine. I decided to become her agent, publicist, broker, whatever you want to call it. That’s why I was so reluctant to accept Dravidian’s offer.”
“I take it Anthony Theobald wasn’t exactly thrilled by either course of events: you severing ties with your rich family, and then souring the Dravidian deal.”
