Heaven is a Place on Earth (6 page)

There were several messages on her queue. One was from the development manager at WorldEnough, a company she had worked for in the past and who were considering a proposal of hers at the moment. She didn't feel like dealing with that right now. If she hadn't won the work, she'd feel even more desperate than before. If she had won it, she'd have another project to feel guilty about not working on. On the other hand, there were only two other messages that were not junk. One from her father and one from Dover Richards.

She knew what her father wanted. Her mother had nagged him into calling her to do something she didn't want to do – apologise, or visit, or whatever. As for Dover Richards, she had it on Tonia's authority that the smarmy creep wasn't a real policeman and was probably the man who murdered Gavin. She definitely wasn't going to take that call.

She got up and paced across the room. What if he came round to see her again? What if he was out in the hallway, right now, waiting for her? He thought she had information about Cal, or the package maybe. What if he decided to stop playing at being a policeman and question her more directly? She stopped pacing and looked at the door. What if he decided she didn't know anything and that he ought to kill her, just so there'd be no loose ends? She kept staring at the door, thinking about him out there, just a few metres away. It struck her just how flimsy a barrier a door was. She always thought of doors as substantial things. They shut out the world. They created a space of safety and privacy inside, an inviolable space, a secure space. But that wasn't true, she realised. A man like Richards probably didn't see doors that way at all. They could be kicked in, the locks shot away, the hinges smashed. Gavin had died after a door he might have once trusted became, not a protective barrier, but a convenient means of entry for his killer.

The urge to take a look outside grew almost irresistible. Yet, even if she had wanted to, she hadn't the courage to open that door, not while a killer might be lurking out there.

The knock came like three rapid gunshots and Ginny cried out in shock and fear, every muscle tensing as if she'd been electrocuted. She stumbled away from the door, wide-eyed with terror. A man's voice shouted something but she couldn't make it out. She looked around. She had to get out. Run. There was a window behind her. She looked at it and outside she saw sunlight filtering through the canopy of a beautiful rain forest clearing. She blinked, momentarily confused. Then she pushed her augmentation down and down until she could see the real street with its scruffy nature strip and the shabby buildings opposite. She was on the first floor. She'd have to climb down somehow.

There was another knock, louder than the first and another shout. Ginny grabbed the window lock, her fingers clumsy and awkward. She couldn't get it open. She broke a nail, sobbing with frustration.
Damn it to Hell!
She had to get out. She'd have to smash the window. She looked about her for something to hit the glass with. There was a chair, over by the door. That would do. But she couldn't go near the door. Not with him outside.

The door burst open with a crash and a man stood there in the hallway, half-concealed behind the wall, holding a black, evil-looking gun, and pointing it straight at her. Her heart seemed to burst inside her chest. Blackness poured in from all sides and she felt herself floating away.

-oOo-

She woke up on her own sofa. The gunman leaned over her. She tried to scrabble back away from him but he grabbed her shoulders and held her down.

“It's all right,” he said. “You're safe. I'm with the police. Everything's all right.”

He looked so earnest. He seemed worried. He had nice eyes, but they were worried eyes. She tried to look past him, looking for Dover Richards.

“It's Virginia, isn't it?” the man with the worried eyes said. “Virginia Galton?”

She nodded, tight-lipped. Would he kill her now he'd confirmed her identity?

“I don't know who you were expecting, Virginia, but I promise you, I'm a policeman. My name is Mike. I'm sorry about the door but I heard you cry out and then... well, you were whimpering. I thought something was going on in here. I thought someone was hurting you. Look, I'm going to let you go now.” He pulled his hands free of her shoulders and stepped back from her. “See? There's nothing to be afraid of.”

Ginny looked again around the room. The door was closed but the catch for the deadlock was hanging loose. There was nobody else with them. “Who are you?” she asked, struggling to sit up. He didn't try to stop her.

With patience, the stranger said again, “My name is Mike. Detective Constable Mike Chu. I'm with the Queensland Police Service. Can't you see my ID?”

Of course she could see it. She just didn't believe it.

“What are you doing here? Why did you break in like that?”

His worried eyes studied her face for a moment, a sure sign he was using minimal aug too. “Would you like me to call up a medic? You don't seem to be quite yourself.”

Ginny didn't know what to do. The man seemed so genuine. She looked him over again. Tall, slender, with an Asian cast to his features, and cheekbones she would have died for. His skin was smooth and his eyes large and deep. A hint of a frown ruffled his otherwise flawless forehead. He looked intelligent and concerned.

“
I'm fine,” she said. “Did Dover Richards send you?”

His head turned slightly in query and for a second or two his eyes unfocused, no doubt as he checked the QNet, or pretended to.

“How do you know Dover Richards?” he asked.

Ginny cursed herself. If this man really was from the police, the last thing she should be doing is giving him the names of criminals and murderers that might connect her to Gavin's death.

“Look, I have no idea who you are or why you're here. You gave me the fright of my life just now and, if you really are a policeman, I have a good mind to call your superiors and lodge a complaint.” She shut her mouth and looked away. Why was she behaving like such a complete arsehole? She needed to get a grip on herself.

Chu looked more puzzled than ever. Then he nodded to himself. “OK. Why don't we just start all over again from the beginning? I seem to have caught you at a bad moment.” Ginny didn't say anything, just watched him carefully as he began to act out the scene that might have been. “Ms Galton, I'm Detective Constable Mike Chu from the Missing Persons Division.” He flashed up his full credentials. “I wonder if I might ask you a few questions about Mr. Cal Copplin? I believe he is a friend of yours.”

Ginny decided to play dumb. “Detective Sergeant Dover Richards already came here and asked me about Cal. There isn't much I can add.”

“
There's that name again.” He gestured towards a chair. “May I?” Ginny didn't want him to sit, or to stay, but she gave a quick nod and he sat down. “According to our records, Dover Richards is one of many aliases used by a person of great interest to us. It sounds like we should be adding 'impersonating a police officer' to the list of reasons we'd like to talk to him.”

“
You mean he's not a real policeman? He said he was looking into Cal's disappearance.”

“
And that's interesting too because the department was only notified this morning that Mr. Copplin had gone off the net.” A thought seemed to occur to him. “Did you think it was Richards out in the hall just now? Is that why you were so scared?”

Damn the man. He was quick and sharp and her own thoughts were all over the place. It was not a fair contest. Everything she said seemed to make things worse. She realised she had started believing Chu was really a policeman after all. “No. You just caught me at a bad moment. I'm prone to panic attacks. I have been for years.” Which was true – or it had been, once. It was five years since Ginny's last attack, but at least there would be medical records for Chu to check and confirm her story. “I've been under some pressure at work. I suppose I was just ready to snap when I heard you outside.”

Again, she had the impression he was checking everything she said, even as she said it. And he did look contrite when he said, “I'm very sorry. Is there something I can get you? Some kind of medication? Or should I call someone?”

“
No, I'm fine. It goes as quickly as it comes.”

He stood up. “You really don't look very well. I should go and come back another time.”

She shook her head, feeling guilty that her lie had evoked such concern. “That's all right. Please, sit down. I'll make us a cup of coffee and you can ask me your questions.” And, of course, while there was a real policeman in her unit, she would be safe from Dover Richards. “How do you like it?”

She fussed over the coffee and added some biscuits, bringing a tray over from the kitchenette and placing it on the coffee table between them.

“You live here alone?” Chu asked.

“
No-one's alone any more,” she said, quoting an ad for a popular brand of tank. He smiled and she added, “Never met the right guy. I get wrapped up in my work. I can be pretty antisocial I suppose. Yourself?” Now why did she ask that? What did she care about Chu's private life?

“
I have that same problem. Workaholic. What can I say? I love my job.”

“
You love tracking down missing persons?”

“
You'd be surprised where a misper can lead you. I never know what each new day will bring.”

“
Like finding a crazy woman screaming and – What did you say? Whimpering? – when you knock on her door?”

He smiled. “That kind of thing, yes.” Perhaps the turn of conversation had reminded him how curious he was because he said, “Do you mind if I ask those questions now?”

Ginny took a breath and said, “OK.”

He went through the same questions the fake cop had asked, only this time round there was less smarm and less creepiness. He said the same things about how Cal had gone offline and that it was not so uncommon.

“Richards said it might mean Cal is dead,” Ginny said.

“
Sadly, it's the main reason people become untagged. When a person dies, their tag keeps responding but the ambient systems flag the person as immobile after a couple of days. You know, because they're not moving. Eventually, someone goes to check on them to see if they're OK.”

“
Not you though.” It would be inconceivable that Detective Chu could love a job that involved going out to find dead people all the time.

“
No, there are medical teams that do that. I get involved when the tag stops responding. That can mean the person's dead too – if the cause of death was a massive trauma to the head – but it can also mean they've managed to untag themselves, or they've gone outside the coverage of QNet.”

Ginny blinked in surprise. “Outside of QNet?”

“Australia's a big country. There's an area totalling half the size of Europe that is not fully covered. Plenty of legitimate reasons for going out there. It's the ones who go out without a license that I take an interest in.”

“
Do you think Cal might have gone out into the bush somewhere?”

“
Right now, I have no idea at all. However, if someone like Dover Richards is looking for him, it might be a smart move.”

The questioning moved on to Richards. What had he asked her? What else had he said? Did she have a way of contacting him? Eventually, Chu returned to Cal once more.

“My records show that Mr. Copplin is a freelance IT specialist. Did he ever talk about his work?”

“
No. He said it was boring.”

“
He's a Brit by birth, been in Australia for ten years, took citizenship nine years ago. Did he ever talk about what he did in the UK, or why he came here?”

Ginny cast her mind back, remembering moments, walks, parties. All she had were fragments. They had talked for hours but all she remembered were scenes and feelings, hardly any actual words. “He said something funny about that once. He said – something like – 'Australia is the last free country on Earth.' I thought he was just being romantic, about the outback and all that, the way people are, you know?”

“And he never talked about his work before coming here?”

Ginny shook her head. “I probably didn't even ask him. Why is that important?”

Chu shrugged. “Who knows what's important at this stage?”

But Ginny thought there was more to it than he was saying. “So what did he do before he came here?”

“I don't know. That part of his file is missing.”

As soon as Chu left, Ginny called the police and asked to speak to someone in Missing Persons. She told them she had had a visit from Mike Chu and could they confirm that he was a real policeman. They were happy to oblige, although the sergeant she spoke to was clearly curious about why she thought he might not be. As soon as she hung up, she realised it didn't prove anything except that there really was a Detective Constable Chu in the Queensland police.

Ginny had lunch and considered her situation while the TV droned on about the new cyberterrorism bill. It seemed the government was organising a plebiscite on the matter, which was unusual, she couldn't remember ever voting in one before, but it still didn't inspire her to look into the issues and formulate her position on the matter. Anything that gave the police more powers to track down criminals of any sort seemed like a good idea to her at that moment.

With the arrival of Detective Constable Chu, the probability that she would end up in jail for letting herself get mixed up in Cal's affairs, began to loom in her thoughts. She had agreed to visit Chu later to sign her statement – not all of which was true. The fact that Chu confirmed that Dover Richards was a known criminal and Ginny was effectively protecting him by not mentioning Gavin's murder or his sister's suspicions, made her some kind of accomplice. The phrase 'accessory after the fact' came to her.

She switched the TV to a Chinese soap feed and turned off the sound. Beautiful men and women came together in various combinations and locations. Every conversation had an exaggerated emotional temperature, as if everyone in that world lived in a state of unnatural joy or misery, rage or despondency.
Like being a teenager forever
, she thought.

Irritated at herself for staring stupidly at the display when she should be doing things to sort her life out, she picked up the message from the development manager at WorldEnough and set up a call.

Derek Naumann answered, he looked cheerful and fresh, as if he'd been having a good day. “Ginny, thanks for calling back. Do you think you could pop into the office for a meeting?”

“
No worries. When would suit you?”

“
What are you doing right now?”

That caught her off-guard. She didn't want to go anywhere or meet anyone. But she gave herself a mental kick up the backside and smiled. “Now would be fine. I'll be there in a couple of minutes.”

She didn't want to get back in the tank. The thought of being in there if Dover Richards came round scared her witless. She needed to be free to run. No, she'd just lie on the bed – perfectly safe for a short spell in VR – and set up an alarm to pull her out if anyone came to the door. Working through the unit's systems to warn her of anyone standing within a metre or two of her door turned out to be more complicated than it should be and she turned up at WorldEnough's main reception ten minutes late.

“
Please go through. Mr Naumann is expecting you,” the virtual receptionist said, indicating a door off the lobby. Ginny stepped through it, straight into Naumann's office.

She entered in a flurry of apologies which Naumann flicked aside with easy grace. “My fault for springing it on you,” he said. “Take a seat.”

Ginny looked around. Once upon a time, offices had been drab little boxes. If you were lucky, your drab little box had a view of something other than the office block next door. Those days were gone. Derek Naumann's office was a huge and ornate salon that might have been modelled on one from the Palace of Versailles at the height of the Bourbon dynasty. Gilded Rococo furniture of the most delicate and elaborate designs drifted in oceans of blue carpet that lapped at wide parquet shores. At least, she guessed, the brochures might say something like that. WorldEnough built virtual worldlets and every office there was an advertisement for the company's products. Ginny sat in one of the white-and-gold chairs and smiled at Naumann, waving a hand at the décor. “This is new.”

“
Hideous, isn't it?” he said with a grimace. “I keep asking them for something a little less
outré
, but they insist I keep it until the new product line launches. Can I get you a coffee or something?”

No thanks. I need to get back to my unit in case I'm being murdered in my sleep
. “I'm fine, thank you. How's business?”

Naumann gave an elaborate shrug and rolled his eyes. In a tone of mock gravity, he said, “Profits are slipping. The shareholders are not receiving the value we promised them. Something must be done.”

Ginny had heard this refrain before. What she couldn't see yet was why Naumann had called her in to tell her there was no more work when she didn't even have a contract with them at the moment.

“
The powers that be are looking to me to pull their collective butts out of the fire, as usual. They need products that will shake the marketplace, worldlets that will inspire our customers and invigorate their businesses. In short, a miracle is needed.”

“
I'm not sure...”

“
You're not sure if I'm man enough for the task before me?”

Ginny laughed. She'd forgotten how much fun Derek could be. Nevertheless, she wished he would get to the point.

“Ginny, darling, you and I have worked together before. Many times. Let me tell you right now that it was never my idea to stop using you for our soundscapes. The world is run by accountants. Always has been. Cheaper solutions were sought and found.”

Cheaper?
thought Ginny. If she charged any less, she would be paying them to let her work. Perhaps the thought showed in her expression.

“
Oh, I know what you're thinking, and I agree. You get what you pay for. And, trust me,” he waved a hand at the room, “there's a good reason why the sound for this little extravaganza is always switched off.”

That was another good thing about Derek, he wasn't tone deaf like most people she worked for. “So... you want me to spice up the soundscape for...” She looked around. “...this?”

“Good heavens, no. This is beyond redemption.” He winked. “But don't tell the GM I said so. She thinks it's
le dernier cri
. No, this is why I called you in.” He moved his hands, working an interface she couldn't see, and pulled a 3D model out of the air onto his desk. “Just artist's sketches so far, as you can see, but it's going to be a whole new line.
Chic
, modern, tasteful and very upmarket.”

Ginny peered into the little model, trying to make out the details.

“Why don't you go in and have a look around?” Naumann said.

She could see from his air of anticipation that she was expected to approve. So she got out of her chair and stepped up to the model. There was a door set in one wall that bore the usual entry icon. She touched it and found herself inside a suite of offices. The design seemed to be all space and semi-transparent walls, with small organic touches – a pile of stones here, a vine there. It was a style she had noticed lately in the design feeds she read. The walls reacted subtly as she approached them, changing hue, sometimes giving a fleeting glimpse of ocean and birds. The furniture was minimal, simple chairs, no desks, but when she sat surfaces rose from the floor and drifted down from the ceiling to float around her. They were all mock-ups but one carried a mug of coffee, and others were alive with information displays. When she rose, they slid smoothly out of her way and merged into the room. She walked around a little and admired the other rooms, all variations on the theme, then made her way back to the door and stepped through into Naumann's Loius XV museum. By contrast it seemed cluttered and excessively elaborate.

“Well?” Derek asked. “Isn't it just wonderful?”

She smiled at his enthusiasm for what, to her, seemed like just another fancy office. “It certainly makes the old product range look a little... conservative.”

“So tactful, darling.” He looked pleased to have his current office insulted.

“
Bit of a departure for WorldEnough, isn't it? You'll be head-to-head with the top-end office suppliers.”

“
I know, delicious, isn't it. We'll be coming in at about half their wholesale cost. We shall mop the floor with them. This is just a taster, we have a whole range planned, with luxury features at the pricey end and a cut-down budget version for the plebs. You should meet the designer. Young Korean bloke, barely out of nappies. What about the soundscape?”

Ginny had been dreading the question but tried not to let it show. She hated this part. They always expected her to be instantly inspired, to have brilliant ideas, and then pitch them in thirty seconds. Fortunately, Derek's enthusiasm wouldn't let him keep quiet, giving her a few more precious seconds to think.

“We've been thinking Japanese. What's that theatre they have? Kuboki? Something like that. With maybe tinkling water, breezes rattling paper partitions. You know the kind of thing. And hard-surface reflections for internal sounds like footsteps and putting objects down. What do you think? Is that the way we should go?”

“
It's... not bad,” she said. What she meant was,
It's a terrible cliché and anyone with any sense would hate it on principle
. “But maybe we can come up with something a bit more exciting. Something as modern as the design itself.” There was something about the organic touches and the sudden swirls of life from the wall images that teased her with the possibility of auditory analogues. A rising excitement seemed to lift her. This could actually be an interesting project. She could see herself really enjoying it.

“
Derek?” She looked away from the model into Naumann's eyes. “Are you really giving this one to me?”

He tilted his head in reproach. “I wish I could, Ginny, but then I'd have the auditors all over me. Processes must be followed. I'm asking three companies to come up with ideas and quotes. You're one of them and I expect yours to be the most interesting submission by far. Please say you'll put in a bid.”

She forced a smile. It would mean lots of work, all unpaid, and she still had the Old Vienna project to finish. But what an opportunity.

“
You know I'm a one-man-band, don't you?” she said. “I fit my marketing efforts in between earning my living. When do you need this by? My life's kinda complicated just now.”

“
When can you do it?”

“
Give me a month.”

“
Two weeks it is, then. Here...” He used his invisible interface again. “I've just sent you the request for proposals. The model's in there.”

She looked wistfully at the bright little rooms on Naumann's desk. It was exactly the kind of work she wanted, big, interesting, with plenty of scope to be creative and have fun. A few days ago, she'd have been over the Moon to get this opportunity. Now all she could think of was how impossible it would be to do a good proposal while dodging murderers, and the police, and trying to finish a completely soul-sucking project for the guys at UnReality. Yet she had to try.
Murderers come and go
, she told herself,
but the fridge is always there, demanding to be restocked
.

“
Thanks for this Derek. I will do my best,” she said. They shook hands and she left with a slowly knotting stomach.

-oOo-

A restless, fretful night left Ginny in no doubt that she couldn't stay in her unit a minute longer. Dover Richards could find her there. If he wanted to kill her, she was a sitting duck. It didn't help her peace of mind that the lock on the front door was smashed. She'd called the landlord's agent but they had been evasive about when they could send someone round to fix it.

She considered calling Della to see if she could sleep on her couch, but Della was another person she didn't want to see at the moment. Even if she didn't bend Ginny's ear about confessing to the police, she would ask endless questions to which Ginny might have to spin endless lies. No, she had only two choices, check into a hotel, or go to Sydney to stay with her parents. A hotel would be expensive – too expensive if she stayed there more than a couple of weeks – but at least it would probably have a tank in the room and she could get on with her work. Staying with her parents would be the usual torment, but it would only cost here the airfare – whatever that might be – and she could stay away as long as she needed to. She checked her bank balance and decided it had to be her parents.

-oOo-

The plane banked as it climbed, pushing through the rain, leaving Brisbane Airport to be swallowed by the suddenly wet Spring weather. The plane was a small, unmarked, windowless tube, painted a dull grey. Inside, its fifteen passengers filled fewer than half the available seats. The steward, Andy, who occasionally patrolled the aisle, cast his eyes over Ginny's fellow passengers. To Ginny, most of them appeared to be in drugged sleep. Their heads lolled and their mouths hung open, their bodies slumped in their seats. She had never seen so many people unlatched at the same time, lost in virtual worlds, working or playing, oblivious to their environment. One woman had told Ginny she intended to stay that way until they reached Sydney. The steward regarded those ones with a happy smile. They would be no trouble at all, Ginny supposed.

A handful of passengers were latched, though, staring about them with expressions of wonder or interest, as they took in the “view” or the in-flight entertainment, smiling at Andy as he went by. The young man smiled back, offered them drinks, meals, keeping them comfortable. That was his job: helping them through the ordeal.

Ginny had often wondered why people flew at all. Why, in this day and age, would anyone need to, let alone want to? Even unlatched, it was a gruelling experience with no proper bed or tank to lie in. And if you went augmented or native, it was hell. Yet, every week, she now knew, another couple of dozen would make the trip. She had not been able to imagine what on Earth would make it necessary to move your body so far. Well, now she knew. Although it seemed unlikely the others were all hiding from murderers.