“Wilson,” Oscar urged. “It’s time.”
Captain Wilson Kime took a final look at the tracking display. The missiles were close now, and their true offensive capability remained unknown. He was coming perilously close to endangering his ship and crew. The bridge crew were all watching him, their expressions of defeat and regret, and yes, even guilt, were the same as his own.
“Hyperspace,” Wilson ordered. “Take us home.”
FIFTEEN
The lift doors opened smoothly, and police captain Hoshe Finn stepped into the familiar vestibule. For once he didn’t have to call ahead, the double doors into Morton’s penthouse were wide open. Several large flatbed trolleys had rolled through into the big split-level living room, delivering large plastic packing crates that were stacked against the walls. The process of loading the plush furniture into them had already begun, along with smaller household items all wrapped in sheets of foam. But after only three crates had been filled, the clearing-up process had come to a complete halt. All the GPbots that had been doing the work were motionless; some were still holding the objects they’d been carrying at the time of the reported incident with the harmonic-blade carving knife. Two junior managers from the Darklake National Bank, the court-appointed debt-receiver, were waiting somewhat nervously by the remaining settee in the conversation area. The supervisor from the removal company was sitting on the stone hearth in front of the fireplace, drinking tea from his thermos cup and smiling slyly.
“Where is she?” Hoshe asked. It said something for the power of unisphere publicity that he didn’t have to use his new police captain’s identity certificate. They all knew who he was.
“In there.” One of the bank suits pointed to the kitchen. “I want the bitch arrested.”
Hoshe raised an eyebrow while managing to look bored at the same time—something he’d seen Paula Myo do to great effect on several occasions.
Rather pleasingly, the suit flinched. “She threatened us,” he blustered. “And she’s damaged one of the GPbots. We’ll be requiring compensation for that.”
“Badly damaged?” Hoshe asked.
The supervisor glanced up from his tea. “Dunno. I’m not going in there. Psychos aren’t part of my job.” He sounded amused, though his face was carefully sober in front of the suits.
“Don’t blame you,” Hoshe said. The door into the kitchen was partly open. “Mellanie? It’s Hoshe Finn. Do you remember me? I need to talk to you.”
“Go away!” the girl yelled. “All of you, just piss off.”
“Come on, Mellanie, you know I can’t do that. We have to talk. It’s just going to be you and me. No constables, or anything, you have my word.”
“No. I won’t. There’s nothing to talk about.”
Her voice had almost cracked. Hoshe sighed, and moved right up to the kitchen door. “You could at least offer me a drink. I always used to be offered something when we came here. Where’s the butler?”
There was a long silence followed by what sounded like a sniffle. “Gone,” she said quietly. “They all left, all of them.”
“Okay, I’ll make my own drink. I’m coming in now.” Hoshe edged around the door, still cautious, not that he thought there was any real danger.
Like the rest of the penthouse, the kitchen was huge and elaborate. Every worktop had been carved out of pink and gray marble, with the cupboard doors below them made from burnished brentwood. The cabinets above the worktop all had transparent doors, showing off the expensive sets of crockery and glasses. He had to walk around the pool-table-sized central workbench to find Mellanie. She was sitting on the floor in a corner, hunched up tight as if she were trying to push herself through the wall. A harmonic-blade carving knife lay on the terracotta floor tiles just in front of her.
Hoshe wanted to squat down beside her, illustrating support and friendship just like the training scenarios emphasized, but he hadn’t quite lost enough weight to do that comfortably. Instead he lounged back, resting his buttocks on the marble worktop. “You should be careful of those harmonic blades,” he said casually. “They can be quite dangerous in the wrong hands. Lots of junior debt-receivers can get bits chopped off if your aim’s good enough.”
Mellanie looked up. Her auburn hair was in complete disarray. She’d been crying badly; sticky trails down her cheeks. Even so, she remained gorgeous. Perhaps even more so in this state: a classic damsel in distress. “What?”
He grinned ruefully. “Never mind. You do know why those people are here, don’t you?”
She nodded, and lowered her head again.
“The penthouse belongs to the bank now, Mellanie. You have to find somewhere else to stay.”
“This is my home,” she wailed.
“I’m really sorry. Would you like me to drive you back to your parents’ house?”
“I was going to wait for him here. Then when he comes back, everything will be just the same again.”
That shocked Hoshe more than anything else in the whole case. “Mellanie, the judge gave him a hundred and twenty years.”
“I don’t care. I’ll wait. I love him.”
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Hoshe said sincerely.
She looked up again, her face troubled as if she didn’t know who she was talking to.
“If you want to wait, that’s your decision, and I respect that,” he said. “Though I’d love to try and talk you out of it. But you really can’t do it here. I know it must be horrible for you seeing the bank walk in and take everything like this. But busting up a bot isn’t going to help get rid of them. In any case, the idiots outside are just doing their job. Annoying them just means people like me have to turn up and do their dirty work for them.”
“You’re a very strange policeman. You care. Not like that—” Her lips tightened.
“Paula Myo’s gone. She left after the trial. You won’t ever see her again.”
“Good!” Mellanie looked at the carving knife, and extended a leg, pushing it away with her toes. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “But everything nice I ever had happen in my life happened here, and they just barged in and started… They were really nasty.”
“Small people always are. You going to be okay, now?”
She sniffed loudly. “Yes. I think so. I’m sorry they bothered you.”
“Not a problem, believe me; any excuse to get out of the office is welcome. So, why don’t I help you pack a couple of suitcases, then I’ll take you home? Humm, how about that?”
“I can’t.” She stared straight ahead. “I will not go back to my parents. I can’t do that. Please.”
“All right, that’s okay. How about a hotel?”
“I don’t have any money,” she whispered. “I’ve been eating the packets in the freezer since the trial. They’re almost gone. That’s why all the staff left. I couldn’t pay them. Morty’s company won’t help. None of the directors will even see me now. God! Those bastards. They loved me before, you know. I stayed at their houses, played with their children. And the parties we had. Have you ever been rich, Detective?”
“That’s Hoshe, and no, I’ve never been rich.”
“They really don’t live by the same rules as anyone else. Whatever they want to do, they just do it. I found that exciting. It was so wonderful being a part of that, not having limits, living so free. Now look at me. I’m nothing.”
“Don’t be silly. Someone like you can achieve whatever they want to. You’re just young, that’s all. Changes this big are frightening at your age. You’ll pull through. We all do in the end, somehow.”
“You’re very sweet, Hoshe. I don’t deserve that.” She wiped some of the moisture from her cheeks. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“No. But we do need to find you somewhere to stay for tonight. How about a friend?”
“Ha.” Her smile was bitter. “I don’t have any. Before the trial I had hundreds. Now, there isn’t one of them who’ll talk to me. I saw Jilly Yen the other week. She actually left the shop so she didn’t have to say hello.”
“Okay, look, I know the manageress of a B&B not far from here. Have a couple of nights there on me while you get yourself sorted out. You could maybe get a job waitressing or something, there are enough bars in this town. And the colleges will start enrolling in another three weeks. You must have had some thoughts on a career before all this happened.”
“Oh no, no. I can’t take money off you.” Mellanie pushed herself to her feet, combing at her snarled hair in embarrassment. “I don’t want charity.”